Play With Me
by LadyChatterley
Summary: Hogwarts has been chosen to host a new Quidditch championship with ten different European wizarding academies participating. And seeing as it's the last year for The Golden Trio, they'll make damn sure to make it a memorable one. Struggling teenagers, best games ever played, love affairs and foreign students with only one thing on their minds. Winning!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it :)!

**A/N:** Hi there fellow Potterheads and welcome to my new project!

Because I wanted to make the Golden Trio have fun for once, I made this story Voldemort free. He didn't return because Peter Pettigrew was caught at the end of their third year and Sirius Black fully pardoned. I'm keeping this at a slow pace. I want to cover the whole school year properly. Classes, meals, the vibe of the school, Quidditch and the matches. The personalities of the characters and their agendas. I want to do them justice. Everything I write has a meaning and is important for further development of the story. That is why I would wish for everyone to read it, no matter the ship you prefer. I hope to satisfy you all :D. Most importantly, this is not a story of doom and gloom, but of teenagers and the joy school years are supposed to bring them.

I enjoy writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as well.

R&R to brighten my days and above all, enjoy your stay :D.

_**p.s.:**__** If there is a number next to a name, phrase, place etc., it means that I want to explain some things that may not be obvious, so there is an appendix at the end of the chapter which clarifies them. Please, take your time and read it.**_

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

Nearly a week has passed since the departure of the students from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to enjoy their annual summer vacation, yet the professors were still buzzing around the halls like nothing had changed.

The headmaster and deputy headmistress were standing just outside the Great Hall. He, calm and collected, slightly inkling his head to the left and her, looking a bit out of breath, ardently trying to make him understand something very important.

"Albus, I understand that the idea of wizarding unity is deeply rooted in your being and trust me when I say that I support it just as vastly as you do, but this oncoming event is a very bad idea." she tried to reason, her hands stiffly folded over her chest. If not for the frantic moving of her thin lips, she would have made a very good statue.

"Minerva, your concern is flattering but this is one decision I am not walking away from. Our children need to bond now, while they're still pliant to the schemes of adults, to be able to stand together once they grow. And I cannot imagine a better suited place for it than a playfield."

She simply shook her head in disbelief at his soft explanation, appearing slightly more approachable.

"You have never walked away from anything else before, I hadn't expected you to act out of character now either. I am just trying to talk some sense into you about this whole ordeal; that is, if the Ministers decide to allow it."

"Oh, I think the matter of allowing it was never in question."

Dumbledore sounded final. He turned towards the massive door, leading outside of the castle, his hands behind his back. His clear intention was to walk away but the woman was decided on letting the old man know how she felt about the 'object of their discussion'. While she would trust him with her life, someone had to be there to challenge his amazing, yet at the same time, completely wild ideas every once in a while.

She sighed and hurried after his retreating form.

"In Merlin's name! Albus do you not remember the Triwizard Tournament? Only three schools were involved, the three supposedly most elite European schools. It was a riot and certainly not unity. And now we're talking about ten different wizarding academies at one place? They will surely kill each other out of competitiveness."

She stopped in her tracks, determined to make him stand his ground as well.

"Minerva, you make it sound like they're animals. I think you do not give them enough credit. I dare say you'll be pleasantly surprised." he mused, stopping indeed.

"They're teenagers! Raging hormones, clouded judgement, violent sport, unreasonable argumentation and the silliest ideas I could ever think of. What is pleasant about that?" she pressed on, but Dumbledore was still smiling. It was a battle she could never win.

"I am more than willing to give them the benefit of the doubt."

"So they can burn the castle to the ground without any attack of conscience?" she barked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I am highly convinced you'll do everything in your power to prevent such things from occurring, should our institution get chosen as a host?"

McGonagall let out a highly uncharacteristic yelp, pinching the bridge of her nose and thus letting him know just how tired of this argument she really was.

"Should Albus, should? Are you pretending to not already be aware of the outcome?"

He said nothing, just smirked and lightly put his hand on one of her arms.

"Things tend to fall into place with time Minerva dear; you should know that better than anyone else."

"Yes, the always dubious replies of professor Dumbledore." she waspishly retorted and then continued in equally ill-tempered spirit. "I think I do not need to point out, how _very_ unsatisfied I am with your choice of the Head Boy either."

"I might have heard you express some bits of doubt on the matter, yes."

She dismissively swatted his lingering hand away.

"It's ridiculous. The boy is as much of a role model as I am a blundering charlatan! Yet dare I assume your decision is irreversible?"

The headmaster had the audacity to giggle at her colourful choice of words.

"I have faith in him. I believe he will complete the task marvellously. And now Minerva, before you provide another brilliant argument about my decision, I must excuse myself for I am to attend an important meeting at the Ministry in a few minutes and I should dislike the fact of being late very much."

The battle with the headmaster was lost and the Transfiguration professor feared that the war might have already been as well.

* * *

The grandeur of the office with the 'Minister for Magic' brass tile fixed on its dark, mahogany door seemed terribly tacky in the presence of a certain magnificent wizard, keen on giving the impression of someone who has lost his way.

However, the owner of the said office - suddenly appearing through the intense burning of green flames - knew better. He graciously stepped out of the fireplace, dusted away the remnants of soot on his midnight blue robes and smilingly offered his hand to the perceptibly older man.

"I think I am beginning to understand just _how_ Cornelius really managed to get half mad while he was still in charge."

The heavy tone of Kingsley Shacklebolt filled the room in a most delightful manner, making Albus Dumbledore smirk mirthfully and take up his armchair on the opposite side of the richly adorned desk.

"Surely you must not think it was on account of a few unexpected visitations here and there."

The Minister knowingly raised his eyebrows but Dumbledore seemed adamant to uphold his predisposition of innocence.

"I had some business that needed sorting out, so while I was at it, I said to myself, why not visit an old friend as well."

The fox like smile that suddenly appeared on his wrinkled face said that _that_ was most likely untrue but Kingsley let the statement be.

"I must compliment you on your timing then, as I have just returned from the Council of European Ministers for Magic, regarding certain things you might already be aware of."

"I'm convinced that I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Kingsley." Dumbledore feigned ignorance, folding his hands diplomatically while still curiously staring at the dark skinned man.

Kingsley Shacklebolt became minister exactly three years ago, when Cornelius Fudge, completely at the end with his nerves over Sirius Black's prison breakout that ended on a completely different note, respectively stepped down from his position.  
After Peter Pettigrew had been captured, the truth squeezed out of him and Sirius Black having been found innocent, Shacklebolt was selected as the new head of the wizarding community in Britain. Witches and wizards saw how collected the former Auror was in crisis, how dependable and protective he acted around the regime for which he stood for. His voice was reassuring, his posture regal. Plus, he had been on the receiving end of the highest respect from the Supreme Mugwump himself for the longest period of time.  
The outcome was therefore inevitable, and the debt he owed to the people for putting their trust in him had long been repaid with hard work and professional approach.

A nervous knock on the door interrupted both wizards and after a soft encouragement from the Minister, a small, elderly woman with huge spectacles came in, carrying a pile of folders while a couple of bright coloured paper planes hovered over her head, occasionally bumping into one another.  
She ignored the fact that the Minister had a visitor - probably because Dumbledore's self invitation to enter the premises had, by some accident, slipped her attention - and immediately launched herself into an avid explanation of Minister's daily schedule.

"The department reports from yesterday, including the last nine raids from Hit Wizards office."

She dramatically dropped the folders to one of his side desks with a thud.

"You have a meeting with the newly appointed Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports in… Well, technically it started several minutes ago already." she paused again and offered her superior a very stern glare but then continued as if she'd never stopped at all. "The Minister for Magic of Italy politely asked if your business luncheon could be postponed to next week as something, according to him, 'has come on'. I interpret that as 'something has come up' so in order of…"

"Yes, yes. He had been otherwise detained. In the light of recent agreements I was about to cancel our meeting myself." The Minister cut the woman off, which seemed to irritate her to no end and as equally entertain Dumbledore, who this time around tried to make himself as invisible as possible.

Shacklebolt then motioned for her to go on and she did so, albeit looking quite sour.

"As I was saying, in order of the unexpected opening you should really go see the progress the Committee on Experimental Charms has made. They've been trying, unsuccessfully might I add, to get your attention for the past month. Then there's the annual Gnome Shooting on the upcoming Saturday…"

"Really Kingsley? Gnome Shooting?"

This time the female, now fuming with rage, got interrupted by the venerable professor Dumbledore whose blue eyes were twinkling with glee.

"It really isn't what it sounds like. The name is just the Pest Advisory Board Head's idea of a joke. It's supposedly a version of some muggle sport."

"…and you should also write a speech of considerable length. That would be all for today. If you find yourself in need to interrupt me some more, I'll be at my desk."

"Thank you, Magnolia **[1]**."

She left with a huff, several of the paper planes following her back out. The Minister stood up and took one of the planes that stayed. His eyes skimmed over the parchment before he turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"Well, Albus, since you possess a certain air of reassurance, maybe you should come with me. I appointed a new Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department. I am sure he'd think it an enormous honour."

They left the office together.

The halls were busy and alive with chatter, general ruckus and odd sounds. The employees were rushing from one door to another, entering the elevators and then got lost in the crowd again, several floors lower.  
They passed a great deal of witches and wizards, all nodding to the both of them with some sort of recognition. Some with the highest respect, some fearfully. Again others looked disdainful, knowing full well that Dumbledore had never thought particularly well about the institution he was currently strolling through. Then there were representatives of those old, pure-blooded families with deeply rooted beliefs of superiority that had less than agreeable things to say about the headmaster.

But all were concord in one thing; if Dumbledore, who never came by unless he had a good reason, and Kingsley, always being careful with things, related to the great headmaster, were making a public appearance in the Ministry, something big was on the horizon.

* * *

Hermione Granger was comfortably positioned outside, on the porch of their family home, a heavy tome resting in her lap, her eyes closed. It was a warm, early summer evening. Its slight breeze was carrying the hum of roaring car engines from the nearby high road, mixed with the smell of freshly cut grass and scents of rose bushes, growing on the garden of their closest neighbour.  
She could hear the happy voices, coming from the living room yet she felt absolutely no need to join them inside. It was ironic really; no matter how many times she got called a mudblood in the wizarding world, it never made her feel like she didn't belong there more than when her mother's sister and her two daughters came to visit. By her opinion, they were a nasty combination of that pug faced Pansy Parkinson and Lavender Brown girl and were always going on about new clothes, popular friends and lately, since they've somehow been considered old enough, constantly about boys as well.  
Bottom line, Hermione thought them silly, so she much rather put herself out of their way.

She had received a letter from Harry earlier in the day. A very thorough explanation of the agony he was currently going through with the Dursleys, which was followed by excited news of him, moving in with Sirius as soon as he turned seventeen in a month or so. Hermione loved reading Harry's letters. They always seemed so rushed because he was obviously struggling to write down every single little detail, he thought she'd wanted to be informed of. The result of such thinking was then a parchment, full of ink blots and Harry's fingerprints, accompanied with extremely small and narrow handwriting. It was really rather amusing as it usually took her several hours to decipher it in order for the letter to be properly answered in the end.

On the other hand, Ron's letters were extremely short. So short and seldom, she often wondered why he even bothered with them in the first place. But then again, she could hardly blame him. They had a huge falling out during the past school year, mostly because Ron had hooked up with the previously mentioned Lavender Brown and Hermione, although she'd rather bit her own hand off that admit it to anyone other than Harry, was deeply hurt and jealous.

She normally liked to think that she was above such frivolities. Above being a silly teenage girl, sighing after a boy. Yet in this case the disdain for such things had come back, biting her in the bum. She knew Ron. She knew what he liked, what he wanted and how he felt about certain things. She completely understood his nature, and if she thought of her own and the two combined, it sounded perfect.  
Alas, the universe had other plans.

And even though Lavender and Ron broke up a month ago, because she had become such a nuisance, the friendship between him and Hermione had still been quite stiff when they said their goodbyes on the King's Cross. Harry said, that Ron will eventually come around and say that he's sorry, but Hermione knew better. He tended to be thick and stubborn when least needed, so she wasn't really hoping for a reconciliation before the end of the summer.

A high pitched giggle brought the girl back to reality and after deciding, that mulling over the little heartbreak will do her as much good as listening to her cousins, she resumed reading the Advanced Potion Making book. If there was something she was good at, it was studying and overanalyzing the school work for the upcoming year. This was going to be her absolute last one and Hermione had her heart set on excelling it.

* * *

A Quidditch pitch stood in isolation of the great, dark green carpet of woodlands. Yet albeit the solitary placement, it looked like it had been more than adequately taken care of. The grass was cut with meticulous precision. The outlining of the playground freshly done. The seats, made out of ebony, in the lodges that were surrounding the pitch, were richly stuffed and covered in emerald green velvet. The magnificent ensigns with crests of a certain ancient wizarding family were proudly standing on the each side of the hoops, wildly billowing in the strong, slightly cold wind.  
The splendour that made other visitors stand and admire it in awe, left the future heir of the estate and one of his closest friends cold. Growing up here, made everything seem familiar and somehow ordinary to their eyes. The place hasn't really changed since they were little children. To be even more brutally honest, it hasn't really changed in decades and centuries.

The two boys just finished the fourth one-on-one match of the day and were now relaxing in the middle of the pitch. They were eating fresh, cucumber sandwiches that neither of them liked and drank from a smuggled bottle of Ogden's finest.

The dark skinned boy had thrown off his sweaty shirt and was now carelessly laying on the ground, allowing the setting sun to kiss his young flesh while he lit up a cigar that really shouldn't have been in his possession either. On the other hand, the boy whose hair was of platinum blonde colour, was casually leaning his lithe form on his knees, occasionally letting out a gob of spit, motionlessly staring ahead of him.

"Do you really have to do that all the time?" Blaise** [2]** asked, clearly a bit aggravated, when the blonde one spat again.

"Do you really have to ask that _every_ time I do it?" drawled he in return without any special energy in his tone of voice, indicating that he was, once again, bored out of his mind.

"I think what you need, is a good snogging session. You know, to get rid of all that saliva."

"Really Blaise, I didn't think you'd be one of those experiments seeking chaps." mocked Draco and at that they both heartily laughed.

Draco had known Blaise since infancy, just like he did Crabbe and Goyle. The difference was, he could actually talk sense when he was around Zabini and since he was brilliantly clever and cunningly sly, just like himself, they really liked to scheme around.

"You know, I've been thinking about the Head Boy and Head Girl positions and who's going to acquire them." started Blaise, inhaling the toxic fumes of the cigar and then exhaling a divine smelling cloud of misty substance. Draco seemed like he could care less, but decided to share his view on the matter anyway.

"If you ask me, the game for the Head Girl title was just about lost the moment that obnoxious overachiever set her dirty foot on the Hogwarts grounds."

"Yeah, that's about right. What about the Head Boy though?" reiterated Blaise, obviously genuinely interested.

"I don't really care. Macmillan or Boot. I suppose it could be Potter too, seeing as the old codger has such high expectations from him. Or maybe Nott but since he's a Slytherin, he is about the least probable choice." Draco shrugged it off, now laying down on his back as well.

"And people say school is supposed to be objective. Anyway, what about Weasley? I'm thoroughly convinced he'd make a most gullible candidate."

The young Malfoy snorted loudly. He remembered once sardonically telling Longbottom how brainless he was, but upon recollecting Weasley's less than admirable escapades through the years, he was now convinced Longbottom had it better.

"I mean, he was made a Prefect after all." Blaise mumbled on, finally throwing away the fire-brand and folded his arms behind his neck.

"So was I!" came the flippant reply.

"Yeah, but you clearly possess the wrong surname."

While Draco felt a great urge to punch the sly grin off of his friend's face, Blaise seemed to be greatly enjoying the course their little conversation has taken.

"Obviously." he let out in a manner, most similar to their former Potions now turned Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He saw Blaise was about to open his mouth again so he wisely cut him off. "Besides, him having been made a Prefect was the result of Dumbledore's bleeding heart. I'm guessing he didn't want his protégée to be abandoned again, this time by his stupid sidekick."

"How's that?"

Blaise was thick sometimes.

"I don't know if you've noticed but we have this thing called The Golden Trio at school. There's Potter who has, well, a scar. And the mudblood, she has, let's be honest, the brains. And at the end, there's that third person whose name nobody bothers to remember. Dumbledore just wanted him to feel more important than Captain Immortality for once in his miserable little life. I call that tact."

"That's a good theory." praised Blaise, feeling a bit high, probably because of the after effects of the cigar.

"It's mine; of course it's bloody good!"

After the declaration of self importance on Draco's part, nothing but the rustling in the nearby woods and the chirping of the birds could be heard. The sun had finally left the horizon, leaving layers and layers of magnificent red, orange and gold behind. Yet all of it once more went unnoticed by the two teenage boys on the grass, living life without a single care in the world.

"I bet you one hundred galleons that Weasley is going to get the Head Boy title in the end!" eagerly piped up Blaise after a while, his voice a bit higher than usual.

"You're on."

* * *

**APPENDIX:**

**[1]** - **Magnolia Killick** is the only character I have made up until now. I chose the name 'Magnolia', because there seems to be a certain proclivity for naming women after flowers in the wizarding world. The surname Killick does in fact exist and belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. It is mentioned in the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book, when the radio announcer names the witches and wizards who are reported missing (James and Katie Killick, respectively).

**[2]** - **Blaise Zabini's personality**, as described in the books, is that of an arrogant and very vain person, who looks down on nearly everyone and everything, though he rarely expresses his disdainful opinions in a confrontational manner. He does not seem to respect Draco very much and is prejudiced against muggles, muggle-borns and those who are accepting of them. However, he also doesn't seem to hold a high opinion of followers of Voldemort. It seems he is so arrogant that he is more or less indifferent and dismissive of everyone, regardless of status.

My Blaise is a bit different; he is good friends with Draco and is not so dismissive of everyone and everything. Yes, he is still arrogant and vain but in a way any handsome teenage boy, who understands his appeal, would be. And since this is a Voldemort free story, his affiliation does not matter.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it!

**A/N:** Hello, dearies :). Here comes chapter two. I do hope you liked the previous one and will give this piece a chance as well. A huge thank you to everyone who followed, added to favourites or reviewed!

R&R to brighten my days and above all, enjoy your stay :D!

* * *

_**Chapter 2**_

The Dursleys, along with Harry, were in the middle of their last meal of the day.

Dudley, being home for once, was watching the TV with a deadpanned expression on his plump face, occasionally stuffing huge chunks of meatloaf in his mouth. Aunt Petunia, was making sure she had at least three napkins of different sizes in her lap to successfully prevent the washing machine from doing its job, while the porcine eyes of uncle Vernon never left Harry's head of messy, jet black hair.

All in all, Harry actually thought this was rather normal. Only one more week and he'll be off age. Only one more week left, he reassuringly chanted in his head, until he could move in with Sirius and leave this wretched place for good.

But as always, fate apparently thought Harry hadn't been yelled at for too long a time, so it sent a huge, barn owl loudly hooting through the terrace door, directly into uncle Vernon's plate of tomato soup.

His aunt shrieked, dropped the spoon, making her own soup splash all over her silky, beige coloured shirt and Dudley, always numb to his surroundings when the TV was on, paid no attention to the incident.

Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, didn't look very well. His abnormally large and round face turned into that disturbing shade of purple -the kind one sees on the faces of alcoholics- and as if that wouldn't have been a horrifying sight enough, the never resting vein on his temple popped out as well and started violently pulsating. Harry, sadly well experienced in the after affects of his uncle's momentary state, wisely decided it would be healthier if he picked up the letter and just ran for his dear life.  
So before anyone had a chance for a verbal or physical assault of any kind, Harry was already outside, rapidly walking away from the danger zone.

He only stopped when he could no longer recognize the street, looked around to check if his uncle had, by some unearthly coincidence, managed to track him down and upon realising, he was safe and sound, sat down on the sidewalk, eager for the news.

The letter looked like every other one he had ever received from Hogwarts, the only difference was, that those letters usually came in the middle of August.

He gave it a bit of thought.  
He hadn't done any magic, so it couldn't have been a warning of any kind. Besides, if it was, it would be carrying the Ministry of Magic's seal and that was not the case. And he had a bit of a hard time imagining professor McGonagall, writing him a letter just because she felt like it.

He shrugged and broke the red wax with no special caution, opening the letter. Inside were three sheets of parchment and a big, metal badge. He curiously picked it up, turning it over in his palms. It looked like his Quidditch Captain badge from last year, only bigger and somewhat modified. It was in fact, an enlarged Hogwarts crest representing all four houses instead of the usual lion, standing for Gryffindor only. A silver letter C rested in the middle of it.  
He was baffled and for the first time, he felt exactly how Hermione probably did, whenever she opened the first page of a completely new book.

_**Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,**_

_**unity and socializing among wizarding population have always been the highest priorities of their communities all over the world, as was the ultimately most important thing that young witches and wizards can acquire in their early youth; education. In the light of such thinking, an idea of inner relation for European wizarding schooling academies has presented itself. Cooperation, learning from each other, healthy competition, befriending those who we never took the time to really understand and above all, showing the youngsters that happiness as well as enjoyment of life, is what schooling really should be all about. These are the most important things that our communities, special but sadly a minority compared to the muggle world, can greatly benefit from.  
And with such intentions, the European representatives of International Magical Cooperation are proud to be presenting, the first ever, VALEDICTORIAN QUIDDITCH CUP OF EUROPEAN WIZARDING ACADEMIES (VQC). A Quidditch tournament, involving ten biggest and greatest European wizarding academies of all times.**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (UNITED KINGDOM)**_

_**Beauxbatons Academy Of Magic (FRANCE)**_

_**Durmstrang Institute (SCANDINAVIA)**_

_**Germany's Classic Academy of Wizardry - GCA (GERMANY)**_**[1]**

**_The Spanish Academic Institute for Gifted - SAI (SPAIN) _[2]**

**_Mágico; The Art of Wizardry (PORTUGAL) _[3]**

**_Scholastic Centre for Witches and Wizards, Romania - SCR (ROMANIA) _[4]**

**_Dux; Wizarding Academy (BULGARIA) _[5]**

**_The Italian Organisation of Wizard/Witch Schooling - IOW (ITALY) _[6]**

**_Bewitcher; The School of Male Wizarding Offspring (TURKEY) _[7]**

_**The Council of European Ministers for Magic that was in session on the 13th of July in order for the hosting school to be justly and properly selected has, along with several experts for organised sport events and political advisors, decided on a new code of laws for Quidditch playing protocol (the basic excerpt of section C could be read lower on the parchment).  
So, without any further ado; it is a great honour for our country and, more importantly, the dominating schooling academy in The United Kingdom, to have been selected as a host of such an amazing project.**_

_**We're proudly introducing you the official public summary of the Valedictorian Quidditch Cup tournament outlining, respectively hosted for the absolute first time by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in affiliation, association and co-organization with the United Kingdom Ministry of Magic's**_

_**Department of International Magical Cooperation,  
International Confederation of Wizards,  
Department of Magical Transportation,  
Department Of Magical Games and Sports,  
Magical Maintenance Department**_

_**Along with**_

_**Department of Magical Education**_

_**And**_

_**Foreign Affairs and Sports Department are presenting...**_

…_**following excerpt in congruency with the seventh decree, paragraph IV, section A of releasing Ministry of Magic's documentation publicly…**_

_**1.) The expeditions of foreign academies will be arriving on the 31st of October, consisting of 14 players (for each position there are to be two participants), their school referee and a headmaster or a headmistress.**_

_**2.) The students will be proceeding with their education on the hosting school, adjusted to their age and previous schooling progress.**_

_**9.) The Quidditch pitches (four have been added outside of the castle grounds) and training timetables have been previously arranged by the headmasters and the referees, and will be equally divided among the teams.**_

_**13.) Saturdays have officially been chosen for match days (excluding the holidays).**_

_**15.) The opening match of the VQC will take place on the 8th of November, between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Scholastic Centre for Witches and Wizards, Romania.**_

_**21.) Allowed to attend matches; all of the competing academies staff and students, representatives of all collaborative Ministries, family representatives of the players, all of the headmasters and referees (except for the chosen three that are to judge the game) and all civilians with a ticket (carefully searched through by the British Auror Squad Officers).**_

_**27.) Apparition Points, Portkeys, Floonetwork, Thestral Travelling, Hogwarts Express rides, private boats and flying cars parking as well as the accommodation of witches and wizards will be thoroughly organised by the Department of Magical Transportation.**_

_**38.) The school, that will win the first Valedictorian Quidditch Cup will get the superb honour of hosting the next event, with the gap of 5 years, along with a generous financial reward, presented by the International Confederation of Wizards in the United Kingdom, Supreme Mugwump, the great wizard Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J. (sorc), S. of Mag. Q.**_

_**Ex. of VQC outlining, paragraph VI, section C**_

_**MINISTRY OF MAGIC (M.o.M.) OF THE UNITED KINGDOM**_

After reading through the sheet for a couple of times with completely no difference to it, no matter how closely he read, Harry was finally convinced that this definitely wasn't some kind of a birthday joke from Fred and George. Mostly because he knew how sacred Quidditch was to the twins and himself, hence he knew they'd never pull his leg in this kind of manner. But, upon reading the whole thing one more time, the words struck him for real.

A whole school year of Quidditch? He had surely died and gone to heaven.

Killing the spare time, he had been through the stash of books that he owned on the mentioned sport for fifteen times already this month alone, diligently studying every move, every corner and special dip, planning the upcoming Quidditch season like some obsessed stalker. He knew them by heart just the way Hermione knew Hogwarts; A History.

He closed his eyes and let his imagination run high. There was suddenly wind in his hair; he was gripping his dear Firebolt again, chasing after the sneaky little golden ball that was always a step ahead as he made sharp turns and dangerous vertical dips with exhilarating speed. The crowd, although he could hear it cheer, yell and clap, was but a blur to him. A sea of smudged colours. For those swift hours in the air, he was free.

A car horn, unpleasantly loud, yanked him back to reality and he saw, that he was sitting right in the middle of a driveway, leading to a small, private florist shop. The driver was apparently the owner, who had just arrived home but was unable to drive on as Harry had been in his way.

"What are you doing down there, boy? Move already!"

Although the man was uncle Vernon's living opposite in figure, the disdainful tone with which he addressed Harry couldn't have been more alike to the one the huge man he was forced to live with, used when speaking indirectly about his nephew.

"I'm so sorry; I wasn't paying attention to the traffic." Harry mumbled, far too meekly for his own liking.

"Damn right you weren't, now move!" barked the taller and thinner version of one Vernon Dursley again, before speeding towards the shop and instantaneously disappearing through the opened garage door.

The dark haired wizard sighed. Like it wasn't bad enough that he was being constantly threatened at home, he was now being attacked in the same manner by complete strangers as well. He really was born under a lucky star.

In order to avoid badly hexing someone, he returned to the letter. The Ministry's charming flyer had nothing more to offer, so Harry proceeded with the other two parchment sheets. The second one was a simple list of school supplies and books he needed for the upcoming year and the third was a somewhat personal note from McGonagall.

She was stiffly informing him of the seventh year obligations and in the third line announced that there are to be some changes at Hogwarts this year. She then continued with the shortest yet most perfect summary of the Ministry's flyer that he had read just minutes ago, adding that the school's reputation is the utmost important thing to uphold and cherish at such tournaments. Harry was already beginning to feel a bit low, since it seemed that the professor wasn't really going to provide any further information on the matter, but the next paragraph effectively lifted his spirits again.

After the long consultation with Madam Hooch, the headmaster and all of the Heads of Houses, an agreement has been made. They chose the captain of the team that will represent Hogwarts. And that captain was going to be him, hence the shiny badge from before. Apparently he has shown the steadiness of his character_**, **_dependability and etc.  
He, as the newly appointed Captain, was to come to Hogwarts on the 15th of August with Hogwarts Express along with the newly appointed Head Boy and Head Girl, all 24 prefects and all four Quidditch teams' players. And on the night of the 1st of September, just after the feast, he was to announce 13 other players that will be representing Hogwarts in the Valedictorian Quidditch Cup by his side.

Even though Harry did blush a bit because this Captain title was truly a great honour, there was a bitter taste to it. He could already imagine all of the Sytherins, pointing at him, whispering that he had only gotten the title because he is Dumbledore's favourite pet. He really hated this kind of attention and already had half a mind set on declining it the moment he got back to Hogwarts. Besides, he had a bit of a fear, speaking to a crowd, and patronizingly at that. That was more of a Hermione thing.

Speaking of her, he wondered if she had gotten the Head Girl title. In his opinion, no other girl was better suited or better deserving of the position, but he guessed he could be considered a bit partial.

The sun started to set, making the imposing lines of the charming little houses seem somewhat darker than usual, bringing out the lone night walkers with it. Harry stood up, pushed the parchment sheets in one of his pockets, politely wished a good evening to one of the women who was taking her wild looking dog for a walk and then turned his stride towards Privet Drive again. He was in a good mood but he kept his smile in check. Even though he was several streets away from his neighbourhood, someone was still bound to recognize him and report to his uncle about a goofy smiling boy, and then goodbye free meals and hello once again to the steely bars on his window.

While living with the Dursleys, Harry had an expiration date of life to fear for.

His uncle was still raging around the house when he got through the front door and because he preferred being left alone that having been right about something, Harry simply nodded to everything his uncle had to say, before disappearing to his sad little room.

He fed Hedwig and apologized to her the millionth time, for not being allowed to let her out but at the same time reassured her, that they'll both soon be free. He felt terribly guilty for not being able to do anything for his feathered friend since, when it came down to affectionate company, Hedwig, nudging him with her beak, was as good as the affection went in the Dursley house.

He went to sit behind his desk, forlornly stealing glances at the grumpy bird, with the intention of informing Sirius about the wonderful Quidditch Cup. He knew his godfather will be just as excited about the news as he was. And maybe afterwards, he could talk about it to Hedwig for a while. It was the least he could do in return.

This was going to be the best school year ever!

* * *

This was going to be the _worst_ school year ever!

Hermione was on the verge of crying her eyeballs out. Sure, she'd been made Head Girl and all, but everything else was a complete disaster. She was sitting on the padded floor of her room, painted in calm lavender colour, like a pile of misfortune itself. There were sheets of parchment, scattered around her hunched figure, all already carefully analyzed and searched through for any possible tricks. Her mother had called for her a couple of times already and since Hermione was never the one to disobey on purpose, it was quite clear that something was wrong.

"Hermione dear, what is the matter?"

The miserable brunette lifted her gaze towards the doorstep and the dark haired, kind looking woman, standing there. Her brown eyes, much like those of her daughter, were expressing genuine concern.

"I've been made Head Girl." Hermione clipped, sounding very much perturbed.

Mrs. Granger, not really understanding why her only child was so upset, came closer and smiled.

"Why, honey, that's wonderful, isn't it? I thought that was what you wanted?"

"Yes. I did."

The reply was short and somewhat distant. Another unusual thing for Hermione as she tended to talk incessantly about the simplest of things, thus managing to make them sound three times more important than they really were.

"I must admit that I do not understand you then?"

The older female sat down beside Hermione, rubbing her daughter's lower back affectionately, silently urging her to make herself clear.

"I wanted this year to be perfect. I wanted to become Head Girl, properly lead the student body council, study and pass all of my exams with Outstanding, organise a ball or two, supervise the younger students, maybe even tutor a little. And then finish the year with style. And now, because of this stupid, and not to mention, dangerous Quidditch thing, I'll be too busy to do any of the above." Hermione ardently explained, pronouncing every syllable with extreme velocity and correctness and then jumped in the air again like someone had pinched her. "And don't even get me started on the Head Boy thing! It's downright outrageous! What was McGonagall thinking, appointing that slimy git?!"

Mrs. Granger decided that it would be better to say nothing, so she reached for the parchment on the floor, reading the whole deal herself. When she finished, it became apparent that her only child was now all of a sudden in a completely different state. Her eyes were dangerously glazed with fury which reflected on the tightly crossed arms over her chest and pursed, rosy lips.

"Well, from what I've read, this tournament sounds like a lot of fun."

Hermione first gave her mother the look of pure horror but then started glaring at her like a very much betrayed person.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Maybe you should give it a chance, who knows, it might surprise you. And I dare say it goes roughly the same for your new roommate. Who is to say he didn't change in these two months?"

The girl involuntarily snorted.

"Are you serious, mum? Were you not there during those first couple of years that followed me, entering Hogwarts? The only way he'd ever change, is if he had lobotomy performed on him or something equally as drastic as that."

The _Obliviate_ would probably do the job just fine as well but lobotomy had such a lovely, gruesome tone to it.

"Listen, I'm sure you'll reach you goals honey, no matter how busy you'll get. I believe in you. Your friends believe in you. Maybe you should loosen up a little, though. Try to really enjoy your last year at the academy. Some of your classmates you might never get to see again."

"I'm counting on that. I hate Quidditch. And I tend to have troubles tolerating _him_!"

Her mother tilted her head and raised one of her brows.

"You hate chess too, sweetheart. And the only reason for that is the fact, that you're not any good at it. Besides, I thought you had gotten over the stage, where his words and actions had any effect on you."

Hermione rolled her eyes but had to silently agree with her mother. She did have a point after all. And she had to think about Harry and Ron too. They'll surely be thrilled about it. She could already see their glowing faces, discussing strategy while she'll be writing essays for them.

It gave her a headache.

Then again, she was so very proud of Harry, who had been made Captain and Ron, being Prefect.

However, there was still the Head Boy issue. She'll have to share the new common room with him. And somehow, she already knew, he was going to be terribly difficult to handle and probably of no help at all, if only just to spite her.

She checked the list of all students that will be boarding the train on the 15th, their house affiliation and occupation again.

Her mother was still standing there though, carefully studying her face, which was now seemingly calmer.

"You can do it, Hermione. Now, if you're not too busy, dinner's ready."

* * *

A good hour after dinner being already finished, the party at the Malfoy Manor hadn't looked like it was going to disband anytime soon. The richly furnished drawing room was filled with the group of quite possibly the most prejudiced and elitist witches and wizards any gathering could ever digest.

The sweet, flowery scents of the ladies were mixing with manly aftershaves and the heavy smell of the finest tobacco.

The Malfoy bloodline predecessors on the portraits, long ago buried, were animatedly talking among themselves, sometimes subtly raising their glasses to the discussions among the living and then falling back into the quiet world of the dead again.

The women, all wearing designer dress robes and heavy jewellery, were desperate for the attention from the males and the men, used to such trivialities from the opposite sex, tried to sound as interested in them as possible without losing track of the business talk.

Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were no exceptions. While he tried to be focused on a game of wizarding chess with his fellow schoolmate Theodore Nott, she kept fluttering around his sitting form, clad in a sassy red dress that was in no way appropriate for her age.  
She was never a particularly pretty girl and her constant nagging, along with promiscuous nature, made her a silly bint in his eyes, but the only reason he did not violently push her out of his personal space, was the cold glare of his father who would certainly not approve of such behaviour. Thankfully, one of the house elves appeared out of nowhere, carrying the silver tray usually meant for post, and prevented Draco from doing something rash.

"Dottie is terribly sorry to be interrupting the young master while his friends are visiting, but these letters just arrived and Dottie thought them to be important."

The small creature bowed right to the floor, covered in hand knitted Persian rugs, thus expressing the loyalty and respect to her master at the same time. Draco took the letters from the tray, sent the house elf away and stood up. He coughed, fixing the attention of every single individual on himself.

"Hogwarts letters. Now, unless we've all been expelled for being superior, I believe these are supplies and books lists." he disdainfully announced, playing with the envelopes in his hands before his peers came to collect them.

"Why hadn't I gotten a letter?" loudly wondered Daphne Greengrass, peering over her younger sister's shoulder to get a glimpse of hers. A couple of students present, but letter-less as well, agreed.

"It appears only Prefects and Quidditch players had gotten them." haughtily answered Pansy, basking in Daphne's envious stare. It was no secret that the girls had been indulging in cat fights over the Prefect title ever since Pansy had gotten it.

Those who had previously stashed the letters away now decided to open them.

"Wow, that's some good news." enthusiastically stated Blaise whose eyes started to resemble saucer lids.

Most of the conversation that had been going on prior to the arrival of letters had now died out.

The whole room listened closely. Those, whose children had started reading, joined them in a small familial circle.

"Man, this is fantastic. A school year of Quidditch! What does yours say?"

Blaise launched himself towards Draco, glancing at the tall blonde's half opened letter.

Minutes passed, the guests started observing the Malfoy heir with palpable curiosity as he read and read, getting more and more amused with every line his eyes took in.

After what seemed like ages, he finally folded the sheets back together, turned around the envelope and captured something with his palm.

Lifting his gaze, he strolled it over the assembled group with deliciously cryptic expression upon his sharply sculptured face, at last fixing it on his father, who was stiffly holding the crystal glass of Firewiskey halfway to his mouth.

"Tell me Blaise, what was the wager on the Head Boy thing again?" he breathed, still not looking away from his parent, who had now lowered the glass to the little decorative table by the window, waiting for his son to do whatever it was that he wanted to do in the first place.

"One hundred galleons." answered the boy, not really sure where the question had come from.

"And you're still good for it?" slyly pressed Draco again.

"You know me, mate." Blaise laughed back, trying to sound a bit annoyed.

"That's exactly why I'm asking. I know you _too_ well, Blaise."

"Well, fine, yes I'm good for it. Why do you ask?"

"Because Weasley had just lost the Head Boy title to me."

* * *

**APPENDIX:**

It was quite a challenge to make up all of these academies since none from the abroad but Beauxbatons and Durmstrang (both unisex) are mentioned in the books. I presume that since all of the countries I mention have their own ministries or some such similar type of government; they would also have at least one wizarding academy as well.

**[1] -** **Germany's Classic Academy of Wizardry - GCA** (It is considered to be the biggest academy in Europe. They are not pro Dark Arts but they do not shun them either. It's a unisex school.)

**[2] -** **The Spanish Academic Institute for Gifted - SAI** (A unisex school.)

**[3] -** **Mágico; The Art of Wizardry (Located in Portugal**. Mágico roughly translates into the English word 'magician'. A unisex school.)

**[4] -** **Scholastic Centre for Witches and Wizards, Romania - SCR** (A unisex school.)

**[5] -** **Dux; Wizarding Academy** (Located in Bulgaria. Dux means leader in Latin; it is derived from the verb 'ducere'; to lead. It's a unisex school.)

**[6] -** **The Italian Organisation of Wizard/Witch Schooling - IOW** (A unisex school.)

**[7] -** **Bewitcher; The School of Male Wizarding Offspring** (Located in Turkey. All-boys school. The choice for making the Turkish school all-boys is in no way related to the nation's beliefs or any other factors. It just simply suits my story and I therefore apologize if it will offend anyone. It is not meant that way.)


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it! Also, the legend under number 2 in the appendix section is mythological and thus belongs to those who've originally told it.

**A/N:** Thanks for paying attention to me and my work ;). It is greatly appreciated. Also, please take the time to read the **APPENDIX** at the end of the chapter. It is important.

R&R! It makes this world spin ;).

**p.s.:** I have uploaded the pictures of **Hogwarts map**, by which I convene the grounds and the pitches, and that of **Bouguereau's Le Ravissement de Psyche** painting, which I use as the entrance to the Heads common room. For those of you who are interested of course; you can find them on my facebook page (the link is on my profile).

* * *

_**Chapter 3  
**_

"Why do we have to be here an hour and fourteen minutes before everyone else, including the engine, arrives?"

Ron had been on it for several hours now, not counting the ones from yesterday, when he was duly informed of the departure time.

It started in the morning, when he grumpily proceeded to walk around and complain about the early hour of getting up. Then, at the breakfast table, he was mumbling incoherent words about not being able to fully enjoy his meal seeing as he could, supposedly, still taste toothpaste in his mouth. And for the past fifteen minutes, he'd been ranting about his backside, hurting for having to sit and wait that long.

Hermione was very close to losing her patience as was apparently Harry, who suddenly heavily punched the redhead in the arm.

"Shut up."

"Ow, what the bloody hell was that for, Harry?"

Ginny let out something that sounded suspiciously like an angry bear's roar, pushed her annoying, bulky brother aside and dragged her trolley further down the platform, adamant on putting as much distance between herself and him as physically possible.

"I really don't understand why…" he started again, motioning towards his younger sister with his uncommonly long arm which Hermione then impulsively grabbed and squeezed.

"For heaven's sake Ronald, enough already!"

Him, behaving like an idiot, was a consequence of a certain blonde individual, getting the Head Boy title.

Truth be told, no one seemed to be terribly pleased about that, but Ron was the one who _really_ had the biggest issue with it.

Although Bill, Charlie and Percy were all Head Boys, Percy not even that long ago, Ron apparently didn't know, or the notion of it slipped his attention at the time, that the Heads shared a common room, away from their schoolmates. And with his overheated imagination, bad temper and supposed understanding of Malfoy's character, he had gotten to all the worst possible conclusions.

Hermione and Harry, spending the last week before they had to leave for Hogwarts at the Burrow, had unfortunately gotten a pretty good impression of Ron, who had all of a sudden started claiming to be a great expert on medieval torturing techniques, and his feelings on the matter. And he was, of course, adequately vocal about it if only there was someone, who didn't have the luck to get away from the fiery Gryffindor soon enough.

In the next half an hour, the platform 9 ¾ came to life with laughter and regular commotion and after the engine arrived, the workers started loading the luggage on the cargo coach. Hermione had exactly 49 students, herself excluded, to tick off of her list but she found the task to be a rather troubling one.

Everyone kept moving up and down the platform, greeting this or that schoolmate and thus making her lose count numerous of times. Some students arrived with their parents so she had to be careful not counting those in either. She finally gave up and went to search for Hannah Abbot and Padma Patil, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seventh year prefects to help her out.

Ten minutes till the train was due to depart, her hair was completely messed up since she'd been pulling at it so ardently out of pure irritability because she only managed to tick off about twelve students. She really hoped Padma and Hannah had better luck with it.

"Well, well Granger, if you're already struggling with as a simple task as checking if all the students are present is, I really don't know how you're going to manage, for instance, planning patrolling routes."

Of course, the prick had a certain proclivity for showing up when least needed. She should've seen it coming.

"Get lost." Harry snarled at his rival, stepping in front of Hermione, protecting her from inexistent evil.

The Head Girl didn't bother with averting her gaze away from the chaos of people in front of her just to see if the ferret had grown an inch or not and silently prayed that he'll just go away.

"No can't do, besides, you just spoke poorly to a Head Boy. I'll take away, let's say, fifty points for bad behaviour and another ten for having a terrible hairdo. Then there's…"

Hermione loudly snapped the black notebook in her hands shut, pulled Harry, who was more than ready to tackle Malfoy to the ground, back and turned to the boy she came to dislike the moment she came in contact with all those years ago. Her face seemed to be radiating with anger.

"Listen you detestable excuse of a wizard. If you as much as look at me or my friends the wrong way this year, I'll take revenge. And trust me, it will hurt!" she threatened, having enough of immature boys for one day. "You being made Head Boy is either a terrible mistake or a ridiculous farce that no normal witch or wizard finds funny and I shall definitely do something about it! Did I make myself clear?"

Her nostrils were practically flaring with fury and he had to admit she knew how to be intimidating. It was actually funny watching her all aggravated and seething with fury. Even Potter looked a bit surprised although he'd been around her for years now.

"What is going on here?"

Ron, who saw the less than friendly exchange among the newly appointed student body leaders, eagerly rushed over to save the damsel in distress.

"You get your snarky arse on the train this instant and mind your own business, Ronald!" she barked at the freckled boy, who meekly lowered his gaze, knowing full well that he had been at least half guilty of making her as upset as she was at the moment.

Malfoy sardonically snarled.

"That's right, Weasel, listen to your surrogate mother!"

Ron's attitude changed instantaneously, his blood visibly boiling in his ears. It was now Harry who grabbed his best friend and tried keeping him in place as best as he could, seeing as Ron's sturdy body had been considerably bigger than his own lithe one.

Hermione has had it with them all, so she plopped herself back on the bench and loudly clapped to get some attention. "I'm, sorry, but didn't I just say something?" she sounded exasperated, pushing the wild mane of her hair out of her face. "You can't take points away Malfoy. At least not until the term officially starts. You'd know that if you'd read the Heads protocol. And Ron, please just get on the train and try not to do any damage."

Harry finally managed to get a good grip of Ron's t-shirt and thus effectively pulled the bigger boy away and dragged him on the train. At the same time Hannah and Padma brought the completed lists to Hermione, who now finally ticked the last name off, seeing the pompous face of one Zacharias Smith standing by the engine.

"Why do you remain here?" she curtly enquired in a couple of minutes, after noticing that his body was still shadowing her own sitting form.

"You know, I actually came over here to fulfil my part of the job but I see you're handling things very professionally, so I'll just make myself scarce. After all, I can't really be seen standing near to the likes of you."

He was gone before she could do or say anything, leaving only a faint smell of his, undoubtedly, expensive cologne behind. She saw him join his band of goons and soon after throwing another conceited look at her, he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Sharing their compartment with Dean and Ginny, Ron came back to his old self, loudly yelling obscenities towards Malfoy or any other Slytherin that had the misfortune of passing their party. Actually, he was yelling obscenities towards anyone, who dared to have anything green coloured on his or her body, not really caring if the fifth year girl with green polish on her nails had in fact been a Hufflepuff.

The following feast was oddly enough, quite pleasant, despite only one table being there in the middle of the Great Hall for the students and several professors, including Dumbledore, Snape, Sprout and Vector, still missing behind the staff table.

While Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors didn't really seem to mind sitting together and were more or less animatedly talking to each other, Slytherins tried their best to keep their distance and thus uphold the status of the most isolated house at Hogwarts.

McGonagall, being as observant as she was, could sense the reluctance of cooperation in the air. It probably wasn't the best idea to try and force these young people together, but she made a promise to herself to stop questioning Dumbledore's actions and just try and make the best of it.

When the plates finally vanished from their tables, she stood up, cleared her throat and summoned her disciples closer to the head table.

"As you all know, we're hosting a very special event called the Valedictorian Quidditch Cup of European Wizarding Academies this year. Further details and such will be thoroughly explained at the start of new school year feast, when all of the students and professors return but for now, we have a different plan."

They all started whining, displeased by the lack of information the deputy headmistress had to share. She ignored their protesting and raised her voice in order to overpower them.

"Quiet, please! The Hogwarts staff and governors have decided to name Mr Harry Potter here as the Captain of the team that will ultimately be representing our noble institution."

Most of the Slytherins snickered at that, fully convinced that Potter had once again been put under the spotlight just because he was famous. And McGonagall, knowing that, served them one of her severe stares, effectively shutting them up.

"We were all synonymous. He has shown nothing short of tremendous skill and honourable attitude towards the mentioned sport." she bellowed, giving Harry a small smile of appreciation.

"You would do well to remember, that he is _the only_ player to already have a position on the team and if I were you, I'd submissively follow everything he has to say or watch getting replaced by some third year Hufflepuff that has never placed his behind on a broom before."

Although not uttering a single word, Hufflepuffs looked slightly hurt.

"Madam Hooch and I will be supervising your practices and in the end help Mr Potter decide who'll make the team. The players for each position will be doubled as stipulated by the code of rules for this special tournament. I suggest you try really hard in order to acquire the spot. We will begin practicing tomorrow morning at nine and I'm expecting all of the prefects on the pitch as well."

McGonagall then dismissed everyone except for Hermione and Draco.

The little crowd begrudgingly started to move towards the exit, a stream of figures with different hairdos and muffled voices. Swallowing hard, Harry told Ron to go ahead and started elbowing his way back, towards the arbitrary professor again.

She was standing on the podium, usually occupied by Dumbledore while interpreting one of his grand speeches, instructing Malfoy and Hermione, who both looked like they were ready to revolt.

"…whatever options are there…"

"Professor McGonagall, can I have a word?" Harry carefully started, making all three of them turn their heads towards him.

"Yes, Potter?"

Despite the fact that he had just interrupted her in the middle of a sentence, her expression softened.

"Well, I was just wondering, is it possible for me to turn down the Captain position? I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I really don't think I'm the most suitable one for such an important task."

He blushed, feeling like a little girl whose secret crush had, by some mistake, gone public.

Malfoy snorted, ready to voice an inappropriate interlude, which fuelled Hermione's bad mood to a point where she resolvedly stomped on his right foot and relished in his contorted facial expression of pain afterwards.

The professor pretended not to have noticed anything, instead focusing her attention on the fidgety young man before her.

"I think you're underestimating yourself, Potter. The resolution has been made. If either one of us thought you unsuitable for the position you would not have acquired it. I assure you that."

McGonagall then turned away from Harry and addressed Hermione in a similar way.

"The decision of naming Mr. Malfoy as the Head Boy hadn't been mine and I can therefore do nothing about it. Professor Dumbledore was final. You can debate it with him when he returns."

"Yes, but…" Hermione started, clearly agitated, the satisfaction of causing the prat pain evaporating.

"No more, Miss Granger! Potter, you should retire for the day as should the both of you. Goodnight."

The stern woman returned to the staff table, her shrewd eyes never leaving their retreating forms.

* * *

The Left Long Gallery Tower **[1]**, a home for Head Boys and Girls ever since Hogwarts had been founded, was basking in the moonlight. Hundredths of small bats were fluttering around the pointed roof, hunting for little insects while the Forbidden Forest quivered with night life vocalisation.

The Heads dorm was guarded by a magnificent painting **[2]** of real life sized woman and, what appeared to have been an angel of a sort. Despite both of them being in the approximately equal state of undress, the young woman seemed to have been perceptively more embarrassed of her body, trying to keep the purple cloth firmly placed over her lady parts while the angel gently held her upper body from behind, pulling her as close to his chest as physically possible, caring only for the well being of his beautiful lover

Hermione had gotten a very unpleasant feeling when she first eyed the painting, giving its inhabitants the password. Their shy performance held a certain strange, maybe even erotic pull, making otherwise rational and down to earth girl bashful and eager to get away from the intimate moment, captured on the canvas.

She was in no real hurry to see her new living arrangements though, mostly due to Malfoy being there as well, but the new common room simply took her breath away.

The place was completely round in its shape, had carpeted floor and a comfortable sofa with two armchairs of midnight blue colouring in front of the the warmly lit fireplace. The wall, facing the entrance door, was covered with built-in bookshelves, completely stocked with numerous samples of first class reading material and a handsome wooden ladder for comfortable accession.  
There was also a L-shaped working desk, standing by the magnificent window which overlooked the Stone Bridge, and a very pretty tapestry of all of the previous Head Boys and Girls just by the set of marble stairs that led up to two separate bedrooms and a bathroom.

It looked extremely cosy and private, and Hermione suddenly wished she wouldn't have to share it with someone as horrid as Malfoy was.

Seeing as he was nowhere in sight, she allowed herself to relax and started caressing the leather binding of the books with her fingers, perusing through the titles and would've gotten lost in thoughts if not for someone, harshly grabbing her shoulder, forcing her to turn around and meet their steely gaze.

Getting confused for a second, she quickly gathered her wits and snapped back to reality.

"Get your paws of me, you prick!" she spat, trying to pry his bigger hands off her delicate form.

He sneered but then broke the physical contact as if he'd been touching something that was either highly poisonous or disgusting.

"You dared to stomp on my foot." he breathed, a cruel smile on his lips. "No mudblood stomps on a Malfoy!"

She rolled her eyes at his antics.

"You're getting repetitive." she huffed, walking away from him.

"I'm superior to you." he continued with his malicious approach, following her retreating form up the staircase.

"You don't tell." she mocked, far from actually being amused, feeling a bit uneasy with him on her heels.

She had reached the top and suddenly felt his hands on her shoulders again. Yelping in surprise when he pushed her against the wall with all his might, she stared at him with wide eyes. There was something quite unpleasant nestling in the pit of her stomach and she refused to acknowledge the idea that it might have been fear.

"What..."

"It will _not_ happen again lest you wish to lose your way around the castle one day!"

His silvery eyes were staring her down, no emotions present. He seemed to be aware of what she was feeling though, because he arrogantly smirked and loosened the grip on her.

She wriggled out of his way and glared.

"Are you threatening me?" she asked, obviously appalled by what he said otherwise she would've hexed him already.

"Was that what it was?" he innocently pondered and then offered her a charming smile. "Perhaps you rubbed off on me."

Hermione swiftly snatched the wand from her pocked and pointed it towards his chest, happy to be in charge once more.

"You're a real nasty piece of work, you know that. What Dumbledore was using while he appointed you Head Boy, I'll never understand, but if you don't get out of my face this instant I'll make sure you become the last Malfoy your family ever produced."

With that she pushed past him and disappeared through the door with her name on it.

* * *

Harry woke up at half past seven the following day, full of energy and stamina. Quidditch was what he did best and he was not about to allow anyone or anything take the thrill away from him. Sadly, his next thought was the fact that he'll have to lead a bunch of conceited, slightly untalented and snarky Slytherins, who will probably try to do their best to undermine his advances.

He slumped back into the mattress, thinking out loud and would proceed to incoherently mumble to himself, if Dean and Ron hadn't started shouting at him for waking them up.

"Come on, Harry! It's still early."

"Stop talking!"

He left the dormitory to get an early breakfast but as he got to the Great Hall, he noticed, that he was not the only one with such intentions. At least ten students were already there, all dressed up in Quidditch gear of their houses. He noticed Duncan Inglebee, the Ravenclaw beater and captain sitting next to Jake Harper, who was, surprisingly, a Slytherin, but somehow bearable when Quidditch was at stake.

Harry, dependant on his bravery, walked towards them and sat down on the opposite side of the table, trying to seem more of a sociable person than he really was or would liked to have been considered.

"Morning." he shyly announced himself, reaching for some bread even though the knot in his stomach, which appeared out of nowhere, tried to prevent him from actually devouring it.

"Ah, Potter. Just the one we were discussing." started Inglebee with his deep, thunderous voice drawing unnecessary attention towards the odd looking trio.

"Really, whatever for?" Harry enquired, having troubles with gulping down the buttered bread, thus reaching for some coffee.

"Well, my father is a Quidditch scout and he said, a couple of days ago, that since this is an all European competition of young flesh, it is possible that captains, coaches, scouts, referees and even sponsors of famous Quidditch teams might show up. You know, for professional league."

Inglebee sounded completely immersed in the idea and Harry's knot lessened its unpleasant hold.

"Yeah, they might see something they like and by the end of this year, some of us could have fat contracts in our pockets. Or at least, that's the talk." added Harper, hastily gulping down his own glass of milk.

Since Harry remained quiet, the other two took it like the boy hadn't understood what they were saying.

"What we're trying to say here, is that we could get the chance of a lifetime if, and I'm only saying if, your arse decides that it wants us on your team!"

The knot tightened again and Harry started to realise that sitting with those two wasn't one of his brightest ideas. However, before he could counter, a thick mane of brown hair came to sit down by his side, fumbling with her handbag. He looked at her, incredulous over the fact that she chose to carry around a school bag, full of school books before the term even started.

He was just about to greet her when she started talking.

"I'm sure Harry will want to have a strong team. Meaning, he'll pick those who will show considerate amounts of skill on the pitch, have acceptable attitude and adequate amounts of team spirit! Pass me the bread, will you."

The boys watched her for a couple of seconds, Harry indeed giving her the plate with bread, and then all three of them exchanged curious stares.

"I was actually thinking of fixing all of the captains on the team as well. I mean, if you were made captains, you have to be good, right." Harry then finally spoke, trying to smother the uncomfortable silence which followed Hermione's articulate explanation.

"Right, that would then be me, Smith who is a chaser and Bletchley. He is a keeper, correct?" enthusiastically asked Inglebee, waving to Grant Page and Liam Chambers, another two players on the Ravenclaw team to come join them. They did so, both giving Harper strange looks.

"How come Bletchley is still in school? Isn't he two or three years older than we are?"

Hermione enquired after seeing the big Slytherin sit next to Zabini and Nott at the far end of the table.

The Great Hall started filling up with the remaining students whilst still looking dreadfully empty, compared to approximately one thousand people, usually occupying the place in meal times.

"He failed Charms and Potions; he's repeating the year again." nonchalantly replied Harper and then continued, negatively, "Listen, this is all fine and dandy but when we get to the pitch, things are bound to get ugly. Let's be honest, this sport gets violent and thirteen free spots available for twenty-seven people? And that's without the notion that Slytherins do not play nice with others. Hell, they don't even play nice among themselves."

"Harper, you're a Slytherin."

The boy smiled at Hermione's pointed observation. She had some sort of a notebook on the table in which she was tirelessly scribbling something, occasionally taking a sip of cocoa here and there. Not really expecting an answer, she kept her head down.

"Way to state the obvious, Granger."

"No, she's right. You're a stinking Slytherin as well."

Harper contemptuously rolled his eyes at Ron's comment -he and Dean had just arrived-, took a scone and ate it before saying anything, leaving the bunch to stare at his composed face.

"I am a pureblood that likes achieving his goals. And if that means putting differences aside, tolerating things I normally wouldn't and taking orders from people I don't usually associate with, then that is what I shall do."

Hermione snorted. A true Slytherin, through and through.

Out of the blue, she turned her head just in time to see a blonde she cared very little for show up. Their gazes met and the Gryffindor girl squeezed the fork in her hand, making the blood disappear from her knuckles.

Luckily Ginny arrived at last, taking the seat on Hermione's left side, intent on hearing everything there was to tell about the luxurious suite the Head Girl had acquired.

The debate then soon turned towards the Chudley Cannons and Montrose Magpies, and before they knew it, McGonagall was by their side, propelling them to hurry up and meet her on the pitch.

* * *

The pitch was as it has always been. The stands, barring different house colours during matches, were rising towards the sky in all their dull glory and the lawn seemed somewhat neglected. Even Madam Hooch seemed to be standing at the exactly same spot she always did when supervising the students.

Long story short, there was absolutely no sign of any additional Quidditch pitches as the Ministry's letter so excitingly promised.

"Good morning to all of you!" exclaimed Madam Hooch, rubbing together her gloved palms, more than obviously terribly excited to blow the whistle and start the first practice. A chorus of greetings rang in return, far from being equally as thrilled as the referee's.

"You no longer represent your house! You are all representing Hogwarts now. Come, come, I want the chasers to step together! The same goes for beaters, seekers and keepers. Quickly! I don't want to hear another word on house rivalry! These things do not exist this year! Do you understand?"

The response was bleak and fragile from disappointment, showing just how much work they'll need to put in the team to truly make it work.

"I asked, do you understand?"

This time the referee got a bit more pleasurable reply although nowhere near as zealous as she wanted it to be.

"Get on the brooms, all of you. I give you the exclusive right to go fly over all of the new pitches. Warm up a bit! You have fifteen minutes. When you get back, I'll divide you in four teams, no matter what position you normally play. Off you go!" she wildly waved with one of her arms but the players just blankly stared at her vivacious attitude.

"And where would that be?" sarcastically quipped Malfoy, casually leaning on the handle of his broom. Hermione, not realising how close to her he actually stood, grit her teeth at his lack of respect for the referee.

"Oh, were you not informed?" she asked incredulously and then turned towards McGonagall who shook her head in dismissive manner.

"Well, you're in it for a treat then!"

Her yellow eyes gleamed as she mounted her broom and started hovering a few feet above the ground, loudly explaining: "The Hogwarts grounds are in no way big enough for four additional pitches, so we found an alternative and built them on the clearing just outside of Hogwarts wall, east of Hogsmeade **[3]**. I would've thought you you'd seen them when you arrived. They're only about a mile away, down on the left side of the winged boars."

The players mounted their own brooms as well, jumping in the air, twirling, diving and then rising again and then stormed away after Madam Hooch whilst the remaining prefects, Head Girl and professor McGonagall climbed the stairs and went to sit on the stand with the commentator box.

"I want you all to pay close attention to the players during the match. If you're not a particular expert on Quidditch," here the deputy headmistress gave Hermione a pointed look, "Then focus on their will to cooperate and team spirit. If not for it, then we don't need to bother with assembling one anyway."

They nodded.

"Professor, three of the players are prefects, not to mention Malfoy who is a Head Boy. If they make the team, are they going to keep their respective titles? I mean, you still haven't given us the events schedule but I'm guessing there will be quite a number of them and I will need all the help I can get, organizing them. And seeing as they'll probably have to practice every day…"

Hermione had been thinking about it since she got the letter in July, knowing full well that such things took time, energy and above all commitment.

"The prefects will be re-appointed as for Mr. Malfoy, he will stay Head Boy. That action is irreversible." shortly explained the older witch, conjuring several sheets of parchment and then giving them to the seated students.

Hermione took the offered piece of paper and went to join Colin and Dennis Creevey, who were leaning over the edge of the stand, trying to see when the players will return.

"Hi there Hermione." they chanted in union and fervidly resumed talking. "Who do you think Harry will pick for the team? We're convinced he'll choose the Gryffindors and leave the Slytherins out."

They laughed at their silly idea and Hermione knew they meant no harm but she still couldn't help herself and corrected them in their thinking.

"I know Harry will take their skill to consideration and if some of them happen to be in Slytherin, I'm sure he will not hesitate in giving them a spot. You must not be so prejudiced. If so, would we not be just the same as they are?"

The boys lowered their heads, ashamed for voicing their unjust thoughts and remained quiet. Hermione then leaned a bit farther over the edge herself, just as several black dots started closing in from the distance. They were clearly flying with great speed, if their rapidly growing oncoming figures were anything to go by.

But then the slight breeze carried sounds of frantic whistling towards them, drawing McGonagall's attention away from the small group on the stands.

"Do you think there's something wrong?" wondered Anthony Goldstein, squinting his eyes to sharpen the picture in the distance.

It must have dawned on McGonagall that the whistling probably meant nothing good, because she immediately started to descend the stand, yelling over her shoulder for the rest of them to stay put.

They stood up nonetheless, all curious as to what was going on when, out of nowhere, the players whooshed by, yelling obscenities at each other with Madam Hooch, blowing her whistle so hard she was more or less completely blue in the face, on their tails.

Something must have caused a terrible rift between them because they all landed and, daring to ignore the angry scolding from McGonagall, started throwing hexes and punches at one another.

* * *

**APPENDIX:**

**[1] - The left Long Gallery tower** is one of the many towers of Hogwarts Castle. It is located to the left of the Viaduct Entrance and is connected to the Stone Bridge. The Potions Classroom is located at the bottom of the tower and a hall on the first floor leads to the Stone Bridge. It is one of the four towers surrounding the Viaduct Entrance, along with the Second-floor girls' lavatory tower and the right Viaduct tower.

Now, it is general knowledge that Head Boy and Girl do not in fact share living arrangements in the books but in order for Draco and Hermione (as this story's main pairing will be Dramione) to get close, I needed to create a sense of proximity. That inevitable feeling of a somewhat domestic air around their shared space which leads to greater things.

Furthermore, I had to find a place where to locate the dorm and make it appear as believable and natural as possible. The left Long Gallery tower appears smaller than say Turris Magnus, Astronomy Tower or the Grand Staircase Tower, so it is only logical that it is not 7 floors high as those are. I decided on it having 4 floors, the fourth one being the common room and then the bathroom and two rooms upstairs, located in the cone shaped roof.  
Seeing as it is extremely hard to establish how the fourth floor would be accessed, I also decided that there is a spiralling stone staircase that leads up there from the first floor corridor which passes through the tower before the Stone Bridge. I hope this explains it ;).

**[2]** - **The painting** in question is actually **Le Ravissement de Psyche**, a wonderful piece by **William Bouguereau** which he painted in 1895. For those of you who are interested and do not know **the legend of Cupid and Psyche**, here it is;

There was once a king and queen, who had three daughters of conspicuous beauty. The youngest and most beautiful was Psyche, whose admirers went so far as to neglect the proper worship of the love goddess Venus and instead prayed and made offerings to her. Venus was offended, and commissioned Cupid (her son) to work her revenge. Cupid, however, fell in love with the girl and desired to possess her for himself.

Although her two beautiful sisters have married, the idolized Psyche had yet to find love. Her father suspected that they have incurred the wrath of the gods, and consulted the oracle of Apollo. The response was unsettling: the king was to expect no human son-in-law, but rather a dragon-like creature who harassed the world with fire and iron and was feared by even Jupiter and the inhabitants of the underworld.

Psyche was arrayed in funeral attire, conveyed by a procession to the peak of a rocky crag, and exposed. Zephyr the West Wind bared her up to meet her fated match, and deposited her in a lovely meadow, where she promptly fell asleep.

The transported girl awoke to find herself at the edge of a cultivated grove. Exploring, she found a marvellous house with golden columns, a carved ceiling of citrus wood and ivory, silver walls embossed with wild and domesticated animals, and jewelled mosaic floors. Although fearful and without sexual experience, she allowed herself to be guided to a bedroom, where in the darkness a man she could not saw made her his wife. She gradually learned to look forward to his visits, though he always departed before sunrise and forbade her to look upon him.

After much cajoling, Cupid, still unknown to his bride, permitted Zephyr to carry her sisters up for a visit. When they saw the splendour in which Psyche lived, they became envious, and undermined her happiness by prodding her to uncover her husband's true identity, since surely as foretold by the oracle she was lying with the vile winged serpent.

One night after Cupid fell asleep, Psyche carried out the plan her sisters devised: she brought out a dagger and a lamp she had hidden in the room, in order to see and kill the monster. But when the light instead revealed the most beautiful creature she has ever seen, she was so startled that she wounded herself on one of his arrows. Struck with a feverish passion, she woke him. He fled, and though she tried to pursue, he flied away and left her on the bank of a river.

In the search for the love of her life, Psyche had to go through many tasks Venus deposited on her.

Meanwhile Cupid escaped his mother's house by flying out of a window. When he found Psyche, he lifted her into the air, and took her to present her to Venus (the moment captured on canvas by Bouguereau).

He then took his case to Jupiter, who gave his consent, made a public statement of approval, warned Venus to back off, and gave Psyche ambrosia, the drink of immortality, so the couple could be united in marriage as equals. Their union, he said, will redeem Cupid from his history of provoking adultery and sordid liaisons.

**[3]** - I convene **the placement of the new Quidditch pitches** by the hand-drawn map of Hogwarts and its environs, which was drawn by J.K. Rowling herself. There is a picture of it on my facebook profile, if anyone would want to see what it looks like and since there is no description of where the north, south, east and west are, I simply decided it to be up, down, right and left on the paper.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it!

**A/N:** I'm late, I know. In my defense, I have been busy with another story so... Thanks for stopping by, enjoy your stay and of course R&R ;).

* * *

_**C**__**hapter 4**_

To say, that the first hour of the first practice had gone sort of okay would have been a terrible lie.

It was unknown which team started it; that very aesthetic huddle of complementary colours. This red was hitting that green on the head and the other green was pulling some third red for his or her leg. There was shouting, screaming, wailing, sobbing and growling.  
And in the end something had to have been done, otherwise there would not be enough players left to assemble a proper team.

But until McGonagall, with a lot of help from Madame Hooch, Hermione and all the other prefects, who weren't of Gryffindor and Slytherin house -somehow they were considered a bit subjective on the matter- made an intervention, the volatile group continued to demean the name of one noble Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It took them fifteen minutes of extremely high pitched yelling, maximum voltage spells and hexes to calm the mob down.

It took another fifteen minutes to persuade them, by threatening of course, to play together again and then, it only took ten more minutes from the fragile peace to turn into an even worse jostling carnage than before, nearly blowing the pitch to bits in the process.

McGonagall, a reserved woman with extreme self-control and amazing sobriety, lost it.

* * *

The headmaster's office was, apart from her beloved Transfiguration classroom, McGonagall's favourite place to be at Hogwarts. She always thought of it as some sort of a sanctuary. A perfect place of serenity for thinking matters through.

The office was, shortly put, Dumbledore himself.

The well stocked shelves with exquisite tomes, the spindly tables with all of those intricate silvery devices, making funny noises upon them, the portraits of previous headmasters, long ago passed away. All of it was offering but a small glimpse at the current headmaster's soul.

Indeed, he was a very peculiar individual. Nevertheless, McGonagall wished she had a pleasanter reason to summon him from his 'going abroad' type of vacation time, a whole week before he was primarily due to return.

The professor took one of the plain looking chairs in front of the grand table, littered with different scrolls and empty ink bottles, and patiently waited.

Professor Dumbledore arrived within ten minutes, looking as cheery as ever and even a little tanned over the cheeks. Something told McGonagall that he was not at all much perturbed by her howler let alone concerned to any degree that could suggest he was ready to make drastic precautions over what she had informed him of.

"Minerva! How lovely it is to see you. I believe there is something you wanted to talk about?"

He called for some tea, lightly making it pour itself into two cups even after the deputy headmistress politely declined the warm beverage.

"Yes, it is a matter of great importance." she clipped, pushing the offered cup as far away from her as possible while still trying to sound composed.

"Hence the very talkative howler, I assume. I must say, Minerva, the Spaniards were quite taken aback with the intensity of your words. You see, they have these delightful plants that…"

"Albus, please!"

The older man stopped at her desperate plea. He sighed and leaned back in his armchair, crossed his hands in his lap and motioned with his head for his loyal colleague to elaborate.

"It is preposterous." she blurted out, letting the bottled up emotions go."Ronald Weasley is unconscious and so is that Zabini boy. Potter has his ophthalmic arc butchered open along with a very nicely broken nose. Draco Malfoy's left shoulder is dislocated and he probably has a concussion as well, not to mention the Ginny Weasley, who's sporting a welt of lovely purple colouring. And that is naming just a few of them!"

She suddenly took a loud intake of breath, realising she might have overreacted with the speech. Reaching for the previously pushed away cup of tea, she coughed, surprised by her own outburst but Dumbledore seemed to have been enjoying her discomfort.

"I must admit I was rather hoping you could go practicing without the need of my assistance for at least a couple of days."

McGonagall took another sip, preventing herself from rudely voicing her opinion again which didn't go unnoticed by the headmaster.

"You're upset, yes?"

"To put it mildly. I would very much like to know how you're going to upbraid them for the caused tumult. Surely the ministry officials and representatives of other academies will understand why we're taking our team out of the competition." she more or less muttered to herself, noticing the odd, purple colouring of Dumbledore's fingernails for the first time.

"Minerva dear, taking them out of the competition is the last thing on my mind right now. They did show that the motivation and drive are there, no matter how poorly aimed. They just need a bit of guidance."

McGonagall stopped drinking her tea and very slowly put the cup back on the table. She narrowed her eyes at her superior and firmly stated: "I have absolutely no intention of spending more time with that band of baboons than necessarily needed. They've disappointed me most profoundly."

"The problem, Minerva, has always been in Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy and their mutual dislike of each other's lifestyle, beliefs and such. Just how different are they really? I am positive that once they come to terms with the fact that they have the same goal to reach, they'll be most synonymous in their actions. And the other students will follow them as they always do. You astound me with your proposition."

The woman pushed her glasses higher up her nose. She was a Quidditch supporter, being an avid player herself in her teenage years, but without discipline and proper attitude the sport didn't work in her eyes. It wasn't that she really wanted to completely eliminate the students from the competition but they needed to be taught a lesson.

"I'm sorry to be so negative, Albus, but that is virtually impossible."

The headmaster giggled at her futile attempt to sound even more saturnine than in the howler.

"We have to let them be. Leave them unsupervised for a day or two…"

McGonagall's face reflected angst, the wrinkles on it quadrupled. She couldn't help but to imagine the massacre and destroyed parts of the academy that were to be expected if the students were left on their own.

"You cannot be serious, Albus?"

"But I am." he confirmed, much to her dismay. "They need to, as the muggles would say, let some steam go. I am sue we can depend on the student body leaders to keep it from getting too much out of hands though."

"Speaking of which, Miss Granger is adamant on convincing you to release Draco Malfoy of his Head Boy duty." added McGonagall, dreading the consequences of Dumbledore's decision to do next to nothing about the unacceptable behaviour the youths have portrayed not an hour ago.

"That was to be expected, I reckon. She can visit me after dinner."

And just like that, their semi-stimulating meeting had ended. The headmaster had disappeared again, leaving a completely bedazzled Transfiguration professor behind, unnerved by the action or rather lack thereof coming from him. He seemed to have been amused by all of it.

She sometimes wondered if he hadn't been lying about being in Gryffindor, when he was still a student himself, but Slytherin instead seeing as his scheming was getting positively occult.

* * *

Dinner was a sombre rather than lively gathering. The Slytherin and Gryffindor students tried to avoid each other as much as possible but the table was, due to the fact that only fifty people ate at it, inconveniently shortened and thus ironically prevented them from doing so.

Since Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed the least affected by it all, they sat in the middle, conversing in hushed tones presenting a living barrier between the two most childishly hostile houses. There was no sign of the friendly manner among them as it was at breakfast time this morning.

Hermione hated the grim atmosphere. The four houses usually took pride in their differences, trying to best each other in classes and on the pitch. But any type of friendship amidst different houses was not discouraged either. Unless, of course, Slytherin and Gryffindor were on the line, although no one had ever attempted to build one so it was really just speculation.

She was actually just in the process of returning to the Head's common room, in a very foul mood since her talk with Dumbledore didn't go as originally planned.

When McGonagall stopped by the Hospital Wing, telling them that they've been given two days on their own to put their game together otherwise they will not see the championship up close and later informing Hermione privately, that Dumbledore will be expecting her after dinner, the girl thought things will finally fall into place.

She was wrong.

"_Sir, with all due respect and ultimate trust to your judgement, I simply cannot prevent myself from asking if you've lost your mind. Draco Malfoy of all people?" her voice quivered with despair, making Dumbledore's eyes shine with mischief._

"_I appreciate the faith you have in me and I am sorry to hear I had swayed it, but out of all people, I always thought that you, Miss Granger, would be the one willing to give young Malfoy a chance to prove himself. You'll see that you two have far more in common than you let on."_

_Hermione really didn't want to burst either into hysterical laughter or hopeless wailing, so instead she cleared her throat and resolutely crossed her arms over her chest._

"_Yes of course; except for dignity, tact and a moral compass we're practically identical." she sarcastically concluded, still trying to sound polite._

"_That's the spirit."_

_Dumbledore soon made it painfully obvious that he had no further intention of any kind of debate with the angry brunette. Draco Malfoy was staying the Head Boy and that was the brutal end of it and Hermione, always the rational one, smiled plaintively, gulped down a nasty knot that formed in her throat and left without another word._

She was a tad bit humiliated. Her goal was to strip Malfoy of his title and just until several minutes ago, she was thoroughly convinced that she will reach it. And now, instead of getting back to the dorm with her head proudly held up high, telling him that he has to pack his belongings and disappear, she'll have to bite her tongue.

Being completely absorbed in her own little self-pity world, she failed to notice someone stagger out of the portrait hole and nearly got knocked over by an unctuously sullen looking Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to be in great rush to get away as quickly as possible.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

For a minute there she almost forgot about that other thing Malfoy was infamously known for; being the most dissolute beguiler, always on duty, leaving a trail of smashed hearts behind.

She'd be kidding herself if she'd say that Draco Malfoy wasn't a handsome boy but she didn't care about the way he looked, because she knew just how ugly his personality really was. Yet again, these facts didn't prevent other girls from tripping over each other just to get his attention.

The muggle-born promised herself she'll hex all of them if she ever happened to stumble upon one in their common room.

He was laying on the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet, not really responding to his surroundings. Hermione more or less tried to tiptoe past him, wishfully hoping he wouldn't notice her and start spluttering snarky remarks.

"Would you just look at that?! Granger, are you passing up a free opportunity to bash me? Whatever happened mudblood? Did Dumbledore forbid you to take another silly class on top of the fifteen ones that you already have?"

Hermione flinched, taken by surprise. He lowered the paper, previously hiding his face from her view and gave her a bored stare. She had to admit; he did possess a very rare talent of being able to knock her off her usually collected and shrewd self, turning her into an emotional wreck of hatred and impertinence simply with a couple of carefully selected words.

Upon noticing her eyes get ablaze with fury, he lifted his paper to cover his face again and afforded himself a huge smile of satisfaction for managing to rile her up in such short time. It looked like Dumbledore didn't share her opinion on whatever it was that she wanted to talk to him about.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say anything and save myself some integrity instead of hexing you into the next century." she announced and then continued towards the steps, ready to get cleaned up and cuddle in her soft bed.

He rolled his eyes and stood up, pouring himself some pumpkin juice from the jug the house elves brought up some hours ago.

"Come now, we both know why you went to that old codger. Why postpone the inevitable. Out with it!"

He spoke with lazy indifference which made Hermione's blood boil even more.

She already had half a mind set on lying to him, saying that he can pack and get the hell out, but she knew what a lousy liar she was and with him, being the demon that was the one orchestrating most of the tricks and intrigues of suspicious reputation, he'd most likely see right through her feeble facade.

"Well, since I didn't say anything and you didn't get any written notice, I think it's safe for you to assume that your Head Boy position hasn't been compromised."

He stopped ransacking through one of the coffers on the window sill and turned around with a very smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He still had a sling around his neck, supporting his dislocated shoulder, which was deemed to heal by tomorrow morning, but to Hermione he couldn't have looked any healthier.

"My, my. I can't even begin to imagine how it must have pained you to say this. But then again, I don't really have to, do I?"

While he was really revelling in the moment, she felt a great need to just punch him in the face like she once already did, yet, knowing it would do little good, she instead growled and gave him one of her dirtiest looks.

"You're intolerant, hateful and homophobic and I simply can't stand you!"

He faked a hearty laugh and raised his glass as if he was to make a toast to her words.

"The feeling is mutual." he festively reiterated, taking a sip of the orange liquid.

* * *

Hermione woke up before her alarm clock went off the next morning. She promised Harry and Ron an early breakfast, mostly with the clear intention of serving them a lengthy sermon on how they are supposed to behave themselves over the course of today's practice. And since she didn't get rid of Malfoy last night, she now had her own ranting to add to the pile.

She stretched, tumbled out of bed, collected her toiletries and fresh underwear, put on her morning robe and left the room.

Now the hall, however short, was adequately wide, especially for the cause of preventing the inhabitants from bumping into each other, but that didn't seem to stop certain individuals from acting like they owned the place.

There was a tacky little stuffed bench, facing the bathroom entrance, meant more as a decoration than an actual piece of furnishing with clear usage but Malfoy, being true to himself, must've ignored that message as he smashed his tall body on it. His long legs were unceremoniously spread all over the hall and there was a toothbrush in his mouth. He was reading again, this time some sort of a Quidditch magazine, ignorant of his still groggy roommate. His hair was tousled and messy and while Hermione's hair didn't look any more tattered, it made _him_ look adorably attractive and _her_ like she was sporting a crow's nest on her head.

She coughed to get his attention.

"I'm finding myself in a bit of a quandary here." he muttered after several seconds of silence, his mouth full of toothpaste. "If I acknowledge, that your small cough meant you're subtly trying to get my attention, then I'm undoubtedly going to have to listen to something I absolutely do not want to hear which will, eventually, give me a semi-bearable headache. Or I can pretend that I didn't hear anything in which case, I'll try to keep reading while you give your best to annoy the shit out of me and I come down with a nasty migraine that I won't get rid of for several days."

Hermione rolled her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, just how many rolls more could her optic nerves take before her eyeballs dropped out from overdrive.

"The problem with you, Malfoy, is that you give yourself way too much credit. I merely coughed out of politeness, you know for you to remove your limbs so I can make use of the bathroom as well. But I could just stomp on them, if you prefer the way of an ill-bred swine which you represent."

He stopped brushing his teeth and lifted one of his brows.

"I see you've expanded your vocabulary over the summer by adding the 'how to sophistically insult an enemy' section. I'm impressed." he taunted and then pulled his legs to his body, not really in the mood for a row with her as he figured the Quidditch pitch will most assuredly provide another physical fight again.

* * *

Seeing as Hermione was late for breakfast, Harry had saved her a spot on his right while Ron showed little interest in everything that wasn't directly connected to food.

"Morning, 'Mione." beamed Ginny, being the first one who noticed the girl. Harry followed her example, perceptively less enthusiastically as did all of the other Gryffindors minus Ron, who kept shovelling food into his mouth.

"Good morning to you all. What's wrong Harry?"

The boy was stirring his cereal, looking like he took the food only so others wouldn't notice that there was something quite off with him. Hermione, always an exception, didn't really surprise him by asking.

"He's worried about the unsupervised practice." offered Ginny, making Ron lift up his fork and wave with it as if he was trying to confirm his sister's statement. Hermione grabbed his wrist and put it down before he poked someone's eye out with it, and then transferred all of her attention back to Harry.

"It'd be odd not to be, Harry."

He gulped down a spoonful of cereal and scrunched his face in disgust, realising he'd been stirring it too long and the milk's turned cold.

"Hermione, I have no idea whatsoever how to approach them. I shouldn't have been picked as Captain." he mewled, slouching grimly over the table, trying to make himself disappear.

"Stop that Harry, you're perfectly capable of leading a first class Quidditch team. You people should just stop being preoccupied with your egos and mutual dislike and focus on the game. I'm assuming you all love it. Correct, Ron?" Hermione rationalised, helping herself with some ham and eggs while trying to involve an absent Ronald into the conversation as well.

"Slesh slajt." he tried his best even though he still had abnormal amounts of food squashed in his mouth and looked much closer to suffocating himself than actually managing to wolf it all down.

Hermione cleared her throat and shook her head disapprovingly at his poor table manners.

"Wot? U anted me you…"

"Yes Ron, that was quite enough, thank you. As I was saying, try to show them a neutral perspective on the case, because right now, you're all headed down the wrong route." she continued with Harry watching her closely.

He was still not convinced that anything good could come out of it.

"The old pitch, right Potter?" someone yelled, making the poor bespectacled boy wince and turn his head around so violently, he got himself an awful neck cramp.

It was Inglebee.

"Um, khm, yes."

Hermione nudged him in the ribs.

"See, he's apparently completely fine with the fact that you're the Captain." she encouraged; finishing her breakfast before she even properly started it.

"Yeah, but Hermione, he's a Ravenclaw. I didn't get into a fight with him, nor would I ever want to for that matter." he glanced at Duncan's retreating form and then looked back at his female friend. "He's massive."

"From what I've heard, you didn't have to get into a fight with the others either but you did anyway." she lastly scolded, got up and urged Harry and Ron to do the same. "That is, unless you're willing to elaborate on what it was, that made you lot aggressive in the first place."

They both grimaced, clamping their mouths shut.

"I thought as much." she barked, "Well, I need to round the other prefects; I'll meet you on the pitch."

* * *

"…you see and so we came across the idea of a school paper." happily explained Parvati Patil while trying to keep up with Hermione's fast strides. The brunette grunted. The last thing she needed was another project on her hands.

"I don't know Parvati. Until I get the timetable for this year's social events and festivities, I can't really give you an answer although I must admit I'd very much like to say no."

Padma, who was walking several steps behind the Gryffindor girls smiled to herself. Being the sensible one of the Patil twins she knew Hermione's answer didn't bode well with her sister, who instantly started protesting.

"Oh, come on. It's a brilliant idea; you're just upset that you didn't think of it yourself."

Hermione turned around and gave Parvati a look of utter disbelief.

"Somehow, when I think of a school paper, I imagine columns on academic and sport achievements and _not_ gossiping!" cleared the Head Girl again. "This was Lavender's idea, wasn't it?"

Parvati's eyes widened with enthusiasm, her poorly maintained mind convinced that Hermione had misunderstood her entire point.

"No, no, no, no, no!" she exclaimed, "It's not only going to be a gossiping paper. We'll also give advice on beauty, health, diets and of course love, relationships and, for your information, we were to include a sports section as well."

Hermione got the sudden urge to nip the horrendous proposition in the bud right then and there.

"Listen, Parvati, I know you mean well but can we really…"

She got interrupted by Pansy Parkinson who must've joined them somewhere between the castle and the pitch but had, until now, kept quiet.

"Granger, I believe those people down there need your attention more than we do."

Hermione averted her gaze towards the pitch that was now only fifty feet away. The boys seemed to be already making plans to start a new brawl. Ron was barking something into Bletchley's face while Harry, instead of trying to calm them down, sat on the grass, his head in his hands, looking very much succumbed to fate.

Hermione sent a glare to Pansy but then rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt, muttering to herself about incompetence and petulant transgressions. She elbowed her way through Anthony Goldstein and Ernie Macmillan, who were getting some sort of a jibe out of the scene, even daring to go as far as to place bets on who'll throw the first punch.

"Hermione, it's not like there's something you can do about it." one of them yelled after her but she didn't deign to compose a reply. She marched right up to Ron who was ready to bestow a mighty blow to Bletchley's already crooked nose and parted them by placing her smaller figure right in the middle of their menacing bodies.

"What is going on?" she cried, getting tired of the same scene going on and on like a broken record.

Malfoy snickered, for once standing on the sidelines.

When no one answered, so she pressed on.

"Harry!"

He lifted his head and made a 'what-was-I-supposed-to do?' gesture with his arms.

"How old are you, huh?! Why can't you just get along! You all adore Quidditch. Merlin knows you never shut up about it! That's why you're here. I know for a fact that some of you," she accusingly pointed around with her index finger, "Can do nothing else but ride a broomstick. Get up Harry!"

The Captain scrambled to his feet. He was used to her yelling but for others, who were never before on the receiving end of it, it looked traumatic. They stared at her like she'd grown an extra head.

"Hermione, calm down." Harry tried but she turned to face him so swiftly he had to take a step back.

"Calm down? Calm down?! Why am I the only one who seems to be able to grasp the concept here? I don't even like Quidditch and I understand that this championship is one of the most important things for wizarding communities all over Europe. We're hosting nine elite academies in two short months. Are we going to present ourselves like a feral flock of barbarians without any sense of integrity and affiliation to them?"

There was silence. They knew she was right, they just didn't feel like saying anything.

Her chest was heaving rapidly as she continued to stare them all down like little children.

"Well?" she asked after a while.

"We know this can't go on." blurted out Harry, awkwardly standing next to Zabini who shrugged.

"Yes, but we're not willing to do anything to push forward either."

"So, what? Are we just going to drop out of the tournament then?" ground Inglebee, who seemed like he was the one who was most annoyed by the situation. "I'm sorry but we're not going to just give up simply because you two," he pointed towards Harry and Draco, "Can't sort your shit out."

"Shut up, Inglebee!" tried Ron, defending Harry's honour.

"No, Weasley, you shut up! It was your fault that you guys ended in the hospital wing yesterday." accused Chambers as well, thoroughly provoked by the redhead's behavioural habits.

"What did you say?" Ron jumped back, this time into the Ravenclaw's face and would have probably knocked him out if not for Harry, who finally found some courage and shouted at his best friend to give it a rest.

The youngest of the Weasley boys stared like he'd eaten something very spicy.

"Harry, come on..."

"No! He's right. If it wasn't for your big fat mouth we would not have gotten into that mess yesterday!"

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Harry was actually taking someone else's side over Ron's. It was a fact, that he had a temper of a volcano and has started his fair share of fights in his time but Harry had never so openly turned his back on him before.

Ron looked completely crestfallen.

"What then?" finally joined in Malfoy. He wasn't smiling but there was something appealing on his face now, that it seemed free of his usual scornful expression.

Hermione looked at him, surprised by the civility in his voice and for a second there locked her eyes with his again. Something really strange hit her, but the feeling was gone as it came and so were his eyes.

Harry stepped forward and outstretched his right arm towards the Slytherin.

"A truce?"

Ron somehow found his voice and grabbed Harry's arm in order to pull it away.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"Ron, please. This is not going anywhere!" reasoned he, pulling himself out of his grasp and focusing his attention back on Malfoy.

He stared at the limb of his nemesis. Memories came spiralling into his mind, bringing a painful yet familiar recollection of his past with them. He had been here before but for different reasons. This thing between them was never really about blood. To be honest, it was just a habit of sorts.  
Potter's eyes were expectantly watching him in a somewhat friendly but daring manner, in some way, trying to let him know that a bit of cooperation will probably not permanently damage their pride.

Weasley looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

And then Draco launched forward and firmly clamped his hand with Harry's **[1]**. No matter what just transpired between them, it was still a power struggle.

"Let's play!"

* * *

**APPENDIX:**

**[1]** - I know it might seem a bit too soon for **Harry and Draco **to** call it a truce** but let's look at some of the facts that this story embodies.

Voldemort hasn't really been around for approximately 3 years now, so it's not really a factor anymore.

Their dislike cannot really be about blood and money either, since Harry is a half-blood (and half-bloods are just as a usual occurrence in Slytherin as pure-bloods) and the Potters were always a very wealthy family and considered to be respected in the wizarding circles (there is, of course, also the theory which I will develop in later chapters about the blood connection between Potter and Malfoy family).

What's left, are their clashing personalities and different priorities, but I am convinced that in cases such as VQC definitely is, they would put it all aside and work their hardest to show the world which wizarding academy has the best students.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it!

**A/N:** A big, big thank you for your reviews, follows, favourites and all of that whatnot. It enhances the flow of my endorphins :D!

As always, enjoy the chapter, read the appendix and leave a review ;).

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

Goldstein and Nott were eying Ella Black **[1]**, a Slytherin sixth year prefect who was standing on a ladder, trying to pin the magnificent welcome back sign with her wand into thin air as instructed by Hermione. Unfortunately, the girl had conveniently decided to wear a skirt today and seeing as she was rather pretty, most of the male part, currently helping in the Great Hall, mainly did little else but stare and offer inappropriate remarks here and there.

Hermione was standing a couple of feet behind the two previously mentioned boys, agitated by their lack of efficiency. They were supposed to help her with the simple, iron wrought chandeliers half an hour ago but some things were apparently more interesting than others.

Usually the Great Hall wasn't decorated for the feast at the beginning of the new school year but Hermione's decided that this year was different and therefore special enough to do so. Being a 'less is more' type of person, she went with a simple yet big welcoming sign, gently flowing in the air above the staff table and round chandeliers instead of individual candles.

There was also the idea of making glittery rain in all four house colours to fall when a new student was sorted. Green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, gold for Hufflepuff and blue for Ravenclaw, but adding the whole theme of inner house cooperation and unity into the equation, she had put a stop to it before it could even be properly unfolded.

McGonagall was away at the Ministry for the day, so Hermione was left with decorating, a mountain of paperwork from Department of Magical Education and professor Flitwick, who was a helpful component but sadly a bit non-authoritative thus leaving all of the scolding work to her. And on top of it all, the deputy headmistress politely asked her to take a trip to the Hogwarts Archives and have a look at the student records, picking the possible prefect replacements.

She was swamped, with little patience left for frivolities and frustrated, because she was not able to depend on Malfoy who should have been her metaphorical shoulder to lean on.

"Oh please, she is not that pretty! And her legs are far too skinny to be considered shapely!"

Hermione shuddered slightly, being taken by surprise when Astoria Greengrass loudly huffed by her side, making her presence known. The Head Girl wasn't stupid enough to delve into a discussion of beauty with the prissy Slytherin, so she just shook her head and continued to bore holes into their heads with her eyes.

"I managed to create the glittery rain but I'm having troubles with the colour. I can only get it to be pink." Astoria reported, still observing the girl on the ladder with palpable envy.

Hermione finally looked at the blonde and noticed that she was indeed covered in pink glitter, looking like she just left some Christmas party.

"I thought we agreed that we will not use the glittery rain. No one listens to me. What about the chandeliers? Have they been dusted already?"

Astoria snorted at Hermione's bossy but clearly aggravated tone.

"Granger, where I come from, we use house elves to do the dusting. You can't seriously expect me to lower myself and get my hands dirty, can you?"

Hermione noticed that the girl really looked like she'd have to suffer from persecutory delusions if she was to dust a few square inches of metal and was therefore forced to let her work on the darn glitter just to avoid a high pitched tantrum and spare herself some credibility around her peers.

This was not turning out to be a good day.

Deciding to burst the little bubble of fantasy that was making the grins on Anthony's and Theo's faces far wider than she would have liked them to be and finally get on with the planned work, Hermione loudly coughed.

"Are you two done ogling Ella or do I have to intervene?"

They both turned around, their never fading mischievous smiles letting her know that they were not at all bothered by her interruption.

"Actually Granger, if you could do us a favour and got up there with Black wouldn't have been half that bad either."

She shook her head, wondering just what was it that they expected of her to say or do in return.

A prospect of a giggling and bashful self entered her imagination which she angrily waved away.

"The chandeliers, if you would please!"

Begrudgingly leaving, they threw a couple of backward glances over their shoulders just for good measure and then got lost behind the chamber of portraits door.

Noticing Parvati heading towards her with one very determined face, Hermione scrunched her face in realisation. The Indian was most likely going to molest her about the school paper again and seeing as things were already chaotic enough, she rapidly decided that this was as good time as ever to hand the organisation in the Great Hall over to professor Flitwick and make herself scarce.

She thought the library and Madame Pince would do the job of providing some solitude far better than the constant buzz, echoing in the ground level of the castle. And anyway, she did need to get started on those student records if she was to make at least one thing on her to-do list properly.

Just as she was heading for the main staircase, already murmuring the possible names to herself, someone yelled her name from the entrance door, making her turn around with her brows furrowed. She was half prepared to hear about another catastrophe that either happened or was about to ensue if she didn't immediately return.

To her utter relief, however, she discovered it was only Ron and a couple of other Quidditch players returning from the pitch.

The little group caught up with her, embracing her in an unpleasant cloud of overheated, sweat scented, bodies.

"Hi Ron, how come you're back already? I thought Harry said you'll be out until dinner?" she asked, trying to keep a safe distance but ultimately failed when the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor part of the group started climbing the stairs in order to get to showers as soon as possible.

"Madam Hooch said keepers, seekers and beaters are done practicing for these two upcoming days. Chasers, on the other hand, are a different story."

Apparently that was some sort of a private joke because most of the group snickered, sending meaningful looks towards each other.

"Oh, well that's nice of her." she lightly commented, finally falling into step with Ron's long but tired strides.

Hermione felt comfortably left out of their conversation since she knew next to nothing about Quidditch and was more than keen on keeping it that way. But the Ravenclaws soon turned towards another set of stairs and Hermione, along with Ron, found herself at the tail of the small set of the remaining Gryffindor students.

He started walking slower than he usually did, oddly shuffling his feet, stretching and balling his hands into fists periodically as if he was concentrating on something.

"Ron, is everything okay?"

He twitched a little but nodded, although a bit too enthusiastically for Hermione to actually buy it.

She understood there were some things that were left unsaid between them, most of them involving their last year, but it didn't seem like that was the only matter bothering him.

He stopped then and turned towards her, his forehead wrinkled.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure, what is it?"

He nervously looked around, not fully accepting his friend's encouragement.

She was expectantly eyeing him and had, after he failed to say anything, started walking again, this time away from the stairs because they had reached the third floor where the library was.

This must've thrown Ron a bit off guard as he hurried after her.

"Why are we on the third floor again?" he enquired, watching Hermione politely greet one of the portraits on this hallway.

"Oh, I'm headed to the library to review student records and select possible prefect position successors. You know if you, Ginny or Harper get chosen for the team."

Ron barked something too incomprehensible for her to decipher, clearly not liking what she's said.

"What's wrong?"

The freckled boy went red from violent rage, making Hermione more than a bit concerned for his health. They had nearly reached the great door of the library when he started talking so ardently, gobs of spit went flying through the air.

"I doubt I'll need a successor because I am most likely not going to be on the team anyway. I mean, who in their right mind chooses best friends over mortal enemies? How stupid of me to think, I ever stood a chance against those hypocritical scumbags that roll around in money and play Quidditch on summer camps at fancy wizarding resorts!"

Ron paused to take a breath but momentarily continued with the rant as if he had not stopped at all.

"One wonders, you know, just how little we mean to him if he's willing to replace us just like that! It's not like they're going to stab him in the back or anything the moment he turns around!"

Hermione leaned on the heavy door and pushed them open, waiting for Ron to enter.

He was talking about Harry.

She noticed their relationship had been strained for these past few days but had never found the time to truly sit down with one of them and talk it through.

"This is about Harry." she stated when he slightly tried to calm himself down by taking another breath.

"Of course it bloody is! I tell you, those Slytherin sneaks got him wrapped around their little treacherous fingers. I cannot believe he shook hands with that perfidious fraudster!"

Ron, who had probably never before in his life used so many high profile words in a row, was flushed, his ears practically burning.

He had shut his mouth just as they came to stand by the librarian's table, with Hermione asking for permission of accessing the student records, locked behind the dragon statue in the Legal Section.

The skinny, irritable old woman eyed them with such irksome mixture of distrust and suspicion; one would have thought the two students were actually some sort of hooligans that came to desecrate her precious sanctuary.

She cautiously took the letter that McGonagall herself wrote, allowing Hermione the insight of the records.

"It says nothing here about you having an escort!"

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes at them, ready to expose the deceivers but the two of them stayed put, matching her steady gaze.

"I would have imagined for you to give me enough credit to pick a suitable and trustworthy helper by now. I had been made Head Girl, after all."

If the poorly nourished librarian took Hermione's haughty words to heart or was in any way affected by them, she did not show. She only stood up and led them towards the Legal Section, rudely gesturing for them to turn around so she could perform some sort of opening spell and then, surprisingly enough, left them completely alone.

The room was terribly cramped yet completely free of dust, indicating just how seriously Madam Pince took her job as a keeper of the written word. There was a small window just by the extensive working desk but seeing as it gave nowhere near enough light for Ron and Hermione to actually see anything, the girl conjured a couple of fire balls to properly brighten up the place.

"This is a dump."

Hermione decided to let Ron's uncalled for expressed opinion slip since she knew it was fuelled by his temperament, so instead she went to rake up the 1979-1980 and 1981-1982 generation boxes, levitating them towards the desk.

Ron, never being one for old parchment, again turned bitter and impatient and had started pacing behind Hermione's back from one side of the room to the other.

"Well, I for one think your problem is called jealousy, Ron." she concluded matter-of-factly, perusing through numerous folders, pulling out those she saw fit.

He abruptly stopped and came back into her field of vision, turning angry again.

"That's not true!" he said, while offended to a certain degree he blushed anyway. "Why would I be jealous in the first place?"

"It's perfectly normal, really. He is your best friend and you expected him to show the same amount of affection towards you on the pitch as he does in private but Harry, being one of the most just people I've ever met, has given a chance to prove themselves to everyone in spite of their house. You should be proud of him." she preached, now fishing for the folders in some other box.

"Great, you're taking his side over mine! You know, I'm giving it all out there on the pitch but he still doesn't think it's good enough."

Hermione suddenly felt like saying something really rude and offensive to the brawny boy. Something that would shake him up a bit and maybe knock some sense into his head. She couldn't tell if that was because he was so emotionally blind or if it might had something to do with the fact that he had hurt her pretty badly last year but she really, urgently needed to do so.

"Honestly, Ronald, I'm surprised you've made it this far in the schooling system! How can you be so daft as to not see that Harry is only trying to encourage you to better yourself, so he would have no qualms about choosing you as one of the two keepers! You're being awfully judgemental."

He snorted sarcastically and sat on the desk, blocking a good deal of brightness from Hermione which forced her to lift her head and give him her undivided attention.

"I don't see you getting all chummy with Malfoy either!"

Ron smirked like he just came up with the best, wittiest comeback ever and had proudly crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's not even remotely similar! You dislike everyone that isn't in Gryffindor simply out of habit. Did you ever think that maybe they have a lot to contribute?! Or that Harry thinks that way too? He has brilliant instincts and I'm convinced he would not have allowed Slytherins or any other students to mess with his Quidditch preparations, if he felt like they were only in it to mix things up!"

He loudly smacked the table out of frustration, earning himself a crazed look from Madam Pince who materialised on the doorstep, looking like she was about to have a seizure.

He vehemently apologized and had, after the underfed female disappeared again, continued to pester Hermione, who was still looking at him, somewhat amused but testy at the same time.

"Oh yes, Malfoy being Harry's new best friend is really something this school can benefit from." he continued, much to her chagrin.

"Would you stop twisting my words already?! I said no such thing. I merely pointed out that..."

"That I'm an idiot."

"No, I just think you're in no place to make accusations like that because a, you've got bad social skills and poor impulse control and b, you're terribly inept at reading and interpreting other people's actions, intentions and most importantly, feelings!"

While her voice continued to rise throughout the first part of her little monologue, the last one felt like it tried to suffocate her under the weight of meaningful words.

It effectively killed Ron's intention of mutiny. She wasn't talking about Harry anymore.

An unpleasant tightness appeared in his stomach, making him gulp loudly.

"I... I'm sorry." he managed to choke out, fixating his look on the stone floor.

Hermione turned back to the boxes, realising the unintentional hidden meaning of her lecture. She hadn't meant for it to come out like that. It just felt like the right thing to say at the given moment.

"It's fine Ron. You should cut Harry some slack though; he does need your support but you must understand that he is, for the sake of the competition, trying really hard to be professional."

"I meant for last year, when Lavender and I were... Well, you know."

The small room seemed to be closing in on them and Hermione suspected it had something to do with the course their conversation had suddenly taken. She felt terribly aware of her own body and wished for Ron to go away and leave her to her work already.

"Ron, who you like or date is none of my business."

She tried to hide the disappointment by occupying herself with the papers on the desk but he must've noticed her displeasure as he hurriedly started talking again.

"It was stupid and I was a complete moron for thinking someone like her and someone like me could have something in common. I wish it had never happened."

Hermione knew she'd best keep quiet so that was what she did. If he felt like he needed to explain she will most certainly not stop him, but she would not encourage him either. This was behind her. Or at least she was on a good way of getting there.

"I thought that things will go back to normal again. With you and me, I mean."

She felt his gaze searching for her own but didn't want to give him the impression of a girl that had finally been heard after years of longing. That was not who she was.

"We're friends Ron, things are back to normal."

He opened his mouth but Hermione intercepted him, this time returning the stare.

"I really have to finish this before dinner and, I don't mean to be rude or anything but you need to take a shower."

He smiled shyly and then nodded. Even though a part of him desperately wanted to keep explaining why he did what he did last year and thus convince her that he only really ever wanted her, he backed down. The fact that she said they were friends alone made his chest feel lighter. The year hadn't even properly started yet; he still had time to fix what he so inconsiderately ruined.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no! Seriously, Burrow it's just a reverse pass not a Potions essay for Merlin's sake! Get it right already!"

Harry hadn't been in a particularly good place today.

The weather was nice but extremely windy, the players seemed terribly worn out if their sweat drenched faces and clothes were anything to go by plus, after long hours of yelling, he started developing that nasty scratch in his vocal chords.

On top of it all, Madam Hooch sent the seekers, keepers and beaters back to the castle, which was a reasonable thing to do seeing as they had completed their practice, but Harry still felt like they could've done more. The same went for some of these chasers. One wondered how they made the team in the first place.

Burrow landed, furiously untying his wrist pads while marching towards the benches by the side of the pitch.

"I can't bloody well get it right when I can't see where my teammates are, now can I!" he defiantly growled and sat down, breathing heavily.

The referee finally blew the whistle for the other players to land and gather around her as well.

"Man, I'm beat. We've been at it for hours!"

Zabini got a chorus of approving nods and groans in return.

Some sat down on the benches but most of them preferred the soft grass of the pitch for their sore bottoms and backs.

Harry felt as if the rest wasn't a good idea, even though he was just as tired as anyone else and even more stressed as he still hadn't decided on the competing selection of players, but had wisely kept his thoughts to himself. He was still getting used to the idea of commanding people.

Not when it came to that tool Burrow though. Like his atrocious playing alone wouldn't be enough to drive anyone up the wall, he also had to be a mouthy jerk.

Harry resentfully glanced in his direction and then finally tumbled to the ground himself, giving into his own body yearnings for a well deserved pause.

Madam Hooch started pointing out the mistakes they made, especially criticising several of their techniques. She made sure she reminded them again that this was only the tip of an iceberg when it came to practicing but had then in the same breath added that they were indeed making progress, no matter how small.

"There are numerous possibilities of building up strategies around one single manoeuvre."

"Yeah, but I'm having a hard time believing they'll let me pass when I Transylvanian Tackle **[2]** Burrow for real the next time he hits me with his poorly aimed Quaffle!" snarled Tamsin, rubbing her forearm to ease the pain it caused her.

"I already told you I didn't see you! How was I supposed to know you would be that close to my left?"

"Harry said we're doing the Hawkshead Attacking Formation **[3]**." she slapped right back into his face, shutting him up. "I thought we'd be better played by now. You know, to be able to read each other's moves and all. "

"I had hoped for that as well. Really, some of us apparently just aren't yet ready to let go of whatever it is that's holding us back. Madam Hooch, can the pick be postponed?" asked Harry, predicting another argument between Tamsin and Burrow, thus sensibly trying to avert their attention elsewhere.

"No, Potter, I'm afraid that's not possible. We have to submit the roster of players by September 2nd."

He moaned. It's going to be a very hard call. He took a good look at his fellow players. They worked really hard in these past two weeks. Once they got over the initial hostility, it was actually amazing to see how many ideas some could provide. He'd learned, from people like Malfoy and Inglebee, that there were summer Quidditch camps held for students all over Europe if one's parents could afford such an expense.

He liked listening to what they had to say, he liked their daring propositions and he liked how good they were at putting together tactics, comparing their own style to the one of foreign students that played at such camps.

And that was probably one of the reasons why he and Ron hadn't really been talking that much since that truce he made with Malfoy. He said, he somehow felt as if Harry had betrayed something or rather someone by shaking hands with the hypocritical scumbag as he so eloquently put it.

It wasn't that he was now friends with the blonde or anything but they had gotten along reasonably well on the pitch and Ron couldn't understand it was just for the sake of the game.

Harry missed his best friend but it also angered him that after so many years of being practically brothers, Ron would think he'd be able to replace him. And with a Malfoy no less.

"I have decided to cancel tomorrow's practice."

Harry snapped out of his troublesome thoughts and had to blink several times to come back to senses. Most of the players happily exclaimed at the news, thrilled to have some free time at last.

"Is that smart? I am still not convinced that..."

"Mr Potter one more practice won't make it any easier to make the decision about the players. Both me and professor McGonagall will be there to help you out." the referee reassured, sounding final to a point where the students started to get up, eager to get in the castle, fill their growling stomachs and then take long relaxing baths that were bound to be followed by dreamless slumber.

Harry stopped with the questioning then and followed their lead. He didn't bother picking up his pace to catch up with any of the chasers, knowing he'd have to listen to their incessant bragging about how good they really were.

He never could stomach much self-praise, coming from those who had no reason to demonstrate it.

* * *

Harry had spent the better part of the following night alternately staring at the dull fabric of his beds' curtains, wondering how the other wizarding academies will present themselves and listening to Ron's inconsistent snoring.

They had, in some aspect, gotten back on the same page after dinner, when he apologized for his irrational mistrust. At least that was what Harry had been led to believe right up until his best friend, out of the blue, changed his guilty demeanour back to that stubbornly offensive one, gladly indulging in war-mongering against a certain Slytherin and his goons again.

Harry had, for the sake of obtaining a friendly atmosphere between them, bit his tongue instead of voicing what he really thought of Ron at that moment. He kept quiet, trying his best not to give the freckled boy any more incentive while he went on and on about the devious plans of never-up-to-any-good Slytherins.

When he finally did manage to reach the calm depths of sleep though, he got wildly chased after and eventually completely ran over by a horde of sphinxes that, instead of feminine heads, sported the faces of all those players which didn't get the spot on the team. And after being so rudely jerked back to the darkness of the dorm, he gave up trying to get some rest and went down to the common room where he wrote a letter of substantial length to Sirius.

Fully awake, he decided to visit the owlery and spent some quality time with Hedwig before he sent her off with the parcel.

It was no wonder then, that he was now struggling to keep his eyes open, trying really hard to remember what it was that professor McGonagall was talking about. He was fairly convinced that, were it not for Madam Hooch' frequent cries of joy -or was it bewilderment, he really couldn't tell-, he would have unceremoniously fallen asleep right then and there.

"Potter?"

Harry lifted his head from the chicken scrawled notes which he'd been dutifully pretending to examine in order to get himself together and weakly smiled. The deputy headmistress knowingly pushed her glasses higher up her nose and was about to comment on his odd behaviour when the referee let out an outraged _'absolutely not'_ before storming towards the wide desk Harry and professor McGonagall currently sat at.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are in no way appropriate for the beater positions. They are unreliable, inadaptable, vengeful and simple-minded. Who put them in the yes pile?"

The sleepiness Harry felt not a moment ago had now flown out of the window as the lively Quidditch coach stood, towering above his sitting form in a most menacing manner.

"That would have been me, Madam Hooch." he offered, feeling his face unpleasantly heat up under her scrutinising stare. "They do have a pretty impressive and powerful swing although I have not considered them as the winning option either."

The referee stiffly nodded at his explanation and conjured a chair for herself while she joined them at their working space, levitating her own records over as well.

"These players should definitely not be considered," she continued, dropping the list of the names in front of them. "Not enough team spirit and as such also low effectiveness on the pitch. I only tolerate nice, clean games and those people would only add bad synch to the team."

"Madam Hooch, you've put Ron up here as well."

Harry could understand perfectly why she would have done so but Ron was a really good keeper. He would acquire the spot, no questions asked.

McGonagall, having caught Harry's wandering eye, lightly lifted her brows as if she was trying to encourage him to speak his mind.

"Do you have argumentation good enough to make Madam Hooch change her mind, Potter?" she then openly enquired, again putting the attention on Harry.

"Yes, he is the best keeper we have. Right along with Bletchley. I was sure that picking the keepers would actually be the easiest task. Fleet is quite good but he is rather small and Page gets easily distracted. Now, I would never choose size over proficiency but it just so happens that Bletchley and Ron have it all and are thus a very reasonable choice."

McGonagall turned away to hide a small smile that Harry's loyalty produced. Madam Hooch, on the other hand, gave him a strained look.

"No favouritism, Potter. Everyone knows you and Weasley are as thick as thieves."

Harry's blood boiled. If he didn't know either of the women any better he would assume they were purposefully trying to get a reaction out of him.

"I am not favouring anyone! Would I have chosen the seeker that I've picked then if I did?"

"Very well, we'll give it a second thought. Let's proceed with the chasers for now."

They continued like that, bickering over little things and then again agreeing on some others that were of far greater importance.

Two hours before the students started arriving to school, their job was finally completed. Harry held in his arms a pretty impressive chart of his teammates and couldn't help but smile.

They parted their ways soon after, Harry and Madam Hooch getting ready for the feast and the deputy headmistress going to see the last of the details got done correctly, on time.

* * *

**APPENDIX:**

**[1]** – **Elladora Black** (This is a girl I had only half made up. The ancient and noble house of Black is very big, so it would be no wonder if a girl with that surname would be attending Hogwarts at the same time as Harry and his peers. Moreover, an Elladora Black did exist. She was the sister of Sirius' great-great grandfather Phineas Nigellus Black, the least popular Hogwarts headmaster, and the woman that started the tradition of beheading house elves in the Black household. This girl would then simply be her descendant and a namesake.)

**[2] **- **Transylvanian Tackle** (A fake punch to the nose to confuse the opponent (as long as contact is not made, it is not illegal.)

**[3]** - **Hawkshead Attacking Formation** (Three Chasers fly in triangle shape to force other Chasers aside.)

I know you cannot possibly know who all the players I considered were, so I'm leaving a list below for you to get a better picture. Please note that all of the names belong to J.K. Rowling and have been mentioned in the books, movies or video games at least once. The only thing I have added or changed were names (if there was only surname given) and their age (some are younger or older for two years top, not more). You might find it odd that all of them are 5th years or up but I've decided that they should all be experienced Quidditch players.

**HUFFLEPUFF**

Zacharias Smith, 7th year, team captain, chaser  
Cian Cadwallader, 5th year, chaser  
Nicholas Summerby, 6th year, seeker  
Maxine O'Flaherty, 5th year, beater  
Anthony Rickett, 6th year, beater  
Tamsin Applebee, 7th year, chaser  
Herbert Fleet, 5th year, keeper

**RAVENCLAW**

Duncan Inglebee, 7th year, team captain, beater  
Jason Samuels, 7th year, beater  
Grant Page, 7th year, keeper  
Randolph Burrow, 7th year, chaser  
Nathan Bradley, 5th year, chaser  
Liam Chambers, 5th year, chaser  
Sarah Fawcett, 6th year, seeker

**GRYFFINDOR**

Harry Potter, 7th year, team captain, seeker  
Ronald Weasley, 7th year, keeper  
Ginny Weasley, 6th year, chaser  
Demelza Robins, 6th year, chaser  
Jimmy Peaks, 5th year, beater  
Ritchie Coote, 5th year, beater  
Dean Thomas, 7th year, chaser

**SLYTHERIN**

Miles Bletchley, 7th year, team captain, keeper  
Blaise Zabini, 7th year, chaser  
Draco Malfoy, 7th year, seeker  
Gregory Goyle, 7th year, beater  
Vincent Crabbe, 7th year, beater  
Jake Harper, 6th year, chaser  
Tracey Davis, 7th year, chaser


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just REALLY like to play in it!

**A/N: **So sorry for the horrendously late update but I do have a life to keep up with beyond keyboard and my extensive imagination. Although I do wish, many times actually, I could just slither into it and never return to real life again. Anyhow, thank you so much for sticking with me and most importantly this story. I see that you follow and favourite this piece and I ought to thank you for that right from the bottom of my heart. **  
**

Read the appendix, leave a review so I'll know what you think and above all, enjoy your stay ;).

**5/29/2013** - I have finally corrected all of the chapters. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

Those three or four hours after the arrival of the students to Hogwarts were always something special.

They turned the Great Hall into a bee-hive of light chuckling, happy clapping, vivacious cries of joy and thunderous mirth.

Running from one table to another to greet as many of their peers as possible, neither of the children cared if they bumped into someone who wasn't exactly their friend.

They had finally come back home.

Dumbledore descended the Grand Staircase with ease, a sense of relaxation filling his entire being as he neared the entrance of the Great Hall.

Seeing as he was usually one of the last to arrive when it came to the staff, the students loudly exclaimed in surprise when he slowly made his way through the crowd, his hands clasped on his back, his bright eyes taking in the sight of cheery chaos.

'Good evenings' and 'how do you dos' rained from every possible direction before they turned back into hastily uttered words about summer adventures and romances, sports and tournaments, fashion, new hairdos and pets.

The time they had spent on the train was nowhere near enough to greet and hug everyone or to recount every important story.

Everybody seemed to be terribly excited over the fact that the rest of the school was back at last, filling up the void inside the stone walls.

The whole building and its permanently residing lot had been practically vibrating with anticipation.

The ghosts, barely ever seen on the hallways before have now, so to speak, sprung back to life. They were merrily talking to any person, alive or dead, eager to share a word or two about the new school year. Even Mrs. Norris and Filch, oddly absent from the corridors in the previous two weeks, have returned, trying to look as dapper as they possibly could although the rapid heaving of the caretaker's chest and an odd looking bruise on his forehead suggested he wasn't all too happy to be back.

Second years marched around with their heads held up high. Knowing they were no longer the youngest gave them more confidence than it was mentally healthy but no one wanted to be bothered by it. At least not tonight.

Third years and above waved about with their wands, showing new tricks to their friends and classmates. Sparks and multicoloured butterflies the size of one's palm fluttered above their heads, emitting sighs of appreciation.

Generally happy to have returned, the fifth and seventh years mostly discussed their upcoming O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s but the common red thread of it all was, without any doubt, the Valedictorian Quidditch Cup they have all heard so much about.

The enchanted ceiling, strewn with glistening stars and wispy clouds brought a slightly romantic atmosphere to the mirthful and pleasant buzz of long anticipated reunion, effectively tugging the wrinkled corners of Dumbledore's mouth up.

After several minutes of travelling towards the staff table, he now stood behind his chair, one of his hands calmly resting on its ornamentally carved backrest. He always thought the sight of eager minds, vigorously filled with energy, was strangely empowering.  
But at the same time taking a scrutinising look over his fellow colleagues, it became evident that not all of them were equally looking forward to being daily assaulted with enchanted paper planes, dung bombs and badly made up excuses for not turning in their homework on time.

While their mischievous and creative brilliance often, if not always, made the headmaster proud, it also managed to produce its fair share of grey hair, usually ending up on Minerva McGonagall's head.

He stopped amusing himself then, to offer assistance to Professor Aurora Sinistra by pulling out the chair for her and engaging in small talk over the moons of Uranus, they both sat down until they were interrupted by a slightly breathy voice from behind.

"I'll have you know I had half a mind set on not returning to my post this year, Albus!" the moustached, large man protested, slowly nearing the chair that was usually occupied by him.

"Good gracious, Horace!"

Professor Sinistra who liked socialising as much as the next person, tried to hide her smile behind her hands as the headmaster exclaimed in false astonishment, pretending to be completely scandalised by the statement.

"I was quite serious about it too! All this ruckus and pomp which come with events of such proportions... It would've been distressing for a healthy man let alone an old soldier, who's been burning the candle at both ends for far too long." Slughorn continued, seemingly without noticing the humour behind the whole situation.

If there was anything that appealed to him, it was definitely pomp.

"Absolutely..." tried Dumbledore once more but again got interrupted by the Potions Master who looked in stupor over what was very likely a well rehearsed speech.

"I can tell you're not at all taking me seriously, Albus. And don't think I'm oblivious to the identity of the person who kept sending me baskets of crystallised pineapple throughout the summer. While fine examples, rest assured, I was not convinced..."

Apparently he _did_ catch the humorous undertone of his superior's words after all.

The Astronomy professor now had to turn away or she would've offended her colleague with her giggling. On the other hand, Dumbledore listened to Slughorn intently right up until Severus Snape appeared, giving a disparaging look to his successor before taking his seat as well.

"This is all so terribly exciting, wouldn't you say so?!" the headmaster, leaving Slughorn to his own ranting, urged towards Snape, who was sincerely hoping to be left off the hook this time.

No matter how highly esteemed, Dumbledore wasn't always batting on a full wicket.

The younger man cleared his throat, sent another displeased look towards Slughorn, ignorant to the fact that no one was listening, and grimly responded: "Hardly."

Dumbledore, completely free of any concern, ignored the disdainful answer and continued in his bubbly manner, "I do believe we haven't had this type of upbeat spirit around since that Blast-Ended Skrewt chase in the sixties. The first year without casualties of any kind, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Could be that the trend will be making a comeback this year."

"Oh Severus, never had you pegged for a comedian."

Snape contorted his face as if he'd just bit into a particularly sour pickle and not for the first time since he'd known Dumbledore wondered what is it, that obsesses the old mad to have such bewildering assumptions from time to time.

"That would be disturbing indeed."

The volume of murmur in the Great Hall has increased as Professor McGonagall brought in the Sorting Hat, indicating that the sorting ceremony was to begin any time now.

Dumbledore, however, paid no mind to the owner of the stringent voice, demanding for the children to settle down, and kept his more or less one sided conversation with Snape alive.

"I trust you'll be effectively able to deal with the upheaval that is surely to take place in classes this year."

More of a statement than an actual question but Snape offered a sullen grunt in return anyway. They both turned to face the colourful sea of loud students, which has been steadily getting organised, searching for a very specific dark haired boy.

"I couldn't help but to overhear he moved in with Black. Preposterous. What were they thinking?!" he snarled, then changed the intonation and answered for himself, "Two incompetent, self-centred and completely derailed wimps living in the same household. That'll go well!" he maliciously observed.

"Now, now Severus! Surely you understand what it's like not being a part of a real family. They want to compensate for the time that was stolen from them."

Snape had no time to answer because McGonagall had finally led the first years in, which meant the sorting ceremony has officially started.

* * *

The main talk of the days that followed the start of the new term, was mainly filled with exciting gossiping about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's, nothing short of legendary, truce. They were all shocked upon seeing them shake hands in front of the entire Hall, after the team members **[1]** were announced, and haven't stopped fussing about it ever since. They even went as far as to come up with an unspoken new rule which demanded that they, meaning 'the team', be treated like some group of national heroes.

Another thing that kept the students up at night was the fact that Hermione Granger and, again, Draco Malfoy had been made Heads and were thus sharing living arrangements. The rumours that circulated around the castle were truly preposterous and downright distasteful, and while people rarely dared to address Malfoy about the matter, Hermione had gotten her fair share of annoying second and third years, prodding her about whether the rumours, about them being cosier than they let on, were true.  
What was worse, the Slytherin didn't even bother denying anything and looked more or less indifferent every time someone came up with something new.

It was no wonder then that, while climbing the stairs of the fourth floor with great haste, Hermione Granger came to an abrupt stop, when a group of second year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw materialised in front of her.

She had for some reason managed to be late for the first prefect meeting of the year and did not look too kindly upon being interrupted with what will surely be some nonsensical gossip about this or that person she hardly knew anything about. Or, what was a bigger prospect to fear, some new juicy untrue fact about her and the git again.

The smallest of them looked like she was either going to explode with sheer excitement or terribly needed to use the loo. It was hard to tell but because Hermione was supposed to be setting an example for the rest of the school, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face instead of using several different versions of 'can you please move so I can get to the meeting on time'.

Neither of which she would have phrased with such finesse.

"Did you need something?"

The group squealed, making Hermione shudder.

"I thought she would never ask." one of them chirped to her friend while the other vigorously nodded in return, covering her mouth with her hands.

There was some uncomfortable shuffling of feet in the back of the group and then someone rudely pushed ahead a girl that looked a bit more mature than the rest. She was blushing violently, trying to hide herself behind the curtain of dirty blonde hair, carelessly falling around her face.

"Go on, ask her." a voice incited again.

"Well?"

Hermione was getting impatient, glancing at her wrist watch every seven seconds.

Because it became evident that despite her older disposition, the girl will not be able to let out one single word, that miniature one took matters in her own hands and with the biggest case of puppy eyes the Head Girl has ever seen started, "Is there really going to be a grand, formal ball for Christmas like the Ministry's brochure says?"

Hermione, not knowing which brochure the talk was about, got blown away by the intensity of the little creature's voice and had, before she was able to say anything, gotten pelted with several desperate _'please, please, please'_ lines as well.

Apparently the girls expected a mysterious smile and some whispering from her and when, instead of the expected she delivered a raised eyebrow and a _'not that I'd know of'_ remark they immediately branded her as their foulest enemy.

* * *

The Prefect meetings were usually held in whichever classroom was empty at the time but this year, due to everything that was happening, they found themselves in need of a permanent residence.

The 5B classroom **[2]** on the fifth floor was abandoned for quite some time now.

If Hermione remembered correctly, it was once used as the headquarters of the Wizard Card Collectors' Club along with Fred and George running Weasley Candy Emporium and the Weasley Supplies Bargain Basement.

All in all it was a very handy space with announcement boards on the walls, bookshelves, writing desks and a blackboard; separated into a large main area for meetings and a small backroom with no particular use but storing boxes of old, worthless junk.

As she entered, wheezing from running up the stairs, the first thing that she saw was the expression of reprobation on the deputy headmistress's face.

Quite obviously such behaviour was less than acceptable for someone of Hermione's standing.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Granger." she said, pushing her glasses higher up her nose. Although not openly aggravated, the professor's eyes showed how annoyed by her top student's tardiness she really was.

"I am dreadfully sorry. It will most certainly not happen again." Hermione earnestly started apologizing while she rushed to join Malfoy on the opposite end of the long table.

"I was ambushed on my way here." she added after she sat down, earning a snort from Malfoy who felt most obliged to express his opinion.

"By who, Granger? Ministry's beast division?"

Some of the prefects had to stifle the snickering. They liked Hermione but Malfoy was just too good at his own game to not be acknowledged.

"Mr Malfoy!" McGonagall warned yet he simply smirked and slumped back in his seat.

"What? It was a legitimate question." he tried again, this time causing a wave open laughter among his fellow peers.

"Oh, how witty you are!" Hermione spuriously praised while looking at him like he was one of the most displeasing things she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"I know." he goaded in return and would have earned himself a slap if not for the present professor.

"Quiet now! I will not hesitate to double your patrolling routes if you don't instantly cease this aimless prattling!"

That put an end to the laid-back ambience and the meeting officially started.

"First of all there's been a change in the usual prefect meetings curriculum. For those of you who are entering your first year as a prefect; we had monthly meetings in the previous years. This has been, for the time being, changed to weekly."

A round of groaning and moaning erupted from all sides of the room. Arguments on school work that accompanied O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s could be heard as well as mentions of extracurricular activities and other school duties.

"The Ministry finally decided on this year's schedule for social events. It will be quite a handful. " she resumed, ignoring their protests.

"Now, the first thing we need to talk about is awarding house points." she paused, "This year's procedure has been changed a bit."

Hermione, who's been momentarily distracted by the copy of the schedule that the professor passed around, raised her head and listened closely.

"Changes won't be major, mind you, but the law code for the Cup demands two different point earning techniques. We've decided, along with the Ministry, that in order to determine the winner of the Cup both, points earned during matches and those in classes will be combined."

"What's going to happen with the House Cup then?" observed Padma.

"Only the fourteen players of each team will be collecting the points for Valedictorian Cup Miss Patil, the rest of you will be earning or losing them for your houses as any previous year. Any other questions?"

The majority of them were fully engrossed in closely inspecting the parchment and conversing in hushed tones, allowing McGonagall to freely continue.

"Very well." she turned towards the blackboard, tapping it with her wand.

A neatly drawn web, presenting the calendar for September, appeared on it. Some of the squares with numbers for each day of the month, big enough to add notes, were already filled out with patrolling schedules as well as next meeting notices.

"I have already planned the patrols for this month but I expect one of you, Miss Granger or Mr Malfoy, will be kind enough to do it in the future. In case you are otherwise detained and cannot patrol, by which I mean extensive homework or detention," she harshly looked at the male part of the assembled group, "You report to one of the Heads and ask to be replaced by another prefect. I must warn you in advance though; do not abuse your power lest you wish me to make an exclusive arrangement of detentions with Mr Filch on your behalf. You were chosen to set an example and are obliged to live up to the expectations of the faculty."

"Professor, what is all this about a formal ball?" Pansy broke the brief moment of silence after she purposefully kicked Astoria, who was shamelessly flirting with Malfoy, and pointed at one of the paragraphs on the schedule.

"Social events are, how should I put it, a necessity when it comes to occasions of such proportions."

"Oh how wonderful!" exclaimed Parvati, instantly followed by the other half of the female population at the meeting as well.

"As exciting as it might sound to any of you, these events take an enormous amount of work and planning before they can be brought to life. I do hope though, that we shall successfully fulfil the norm of three such happenings this year."

"Three? That's quite a lot." marvelled Hannah but enthusiastically joined the group of clapping girls nevertheless.

"Yes, the Halloween Night is to be considered as the first one of them. The theme and organisation is more or less on your hands. I'll divulge more information once I get the cost liability from the Ministry..."

Scribbling the instructions in her day planner, Hermione was nodding to every uttered word until she got interrupted by that unpleasant feeling of being watched.

She looked up and saw Malfoy grinning at her.

"It is in the best interest of St. Mungo's group of healers for you to keep your mouth shut until further notice!" she snapped in a tetchy manner but he remained silent and only continued to make her uncomfortable under his stare.

Huffing, she tuned McGonagall back in.

"Before we move on, I must ask you to leave these notices in your common rooms."

Hastily grabbing the first sheet from the bundle of parchment which appeared on the table, Ernie pondered: "You've closed the east wing on the sixth floor **[3]**? How come?"

"The Ministry's Magical Maintenance Department will be reconstructing it to accommodate the foreign expeditions." the professor curtly explained and then pulled a very substantial tome from one of the bookshelves, changing the topic.

"About the social gatherings; the rules dictate that Hogwarts must host a proper formal ball this year. And when I say formal, I am putting the Yule Ball to shame here."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the shining faces of the other girls who were practically humming with appreciation although she was starting to feel slightly giddy herself.

"The Winter Cotillion."

* * *

"A what?" chirped Ginny, nearly tripping over a couple of third years' legs.

"A formal dance funded and partly organised by the British Ministry of Magic. An extremely posh gathering, I imagine." Hermione explained, not sounding interested.

After McGonagall read the protocol of the darn thing, she completely lost all the positive feelings she might have harboured. As it turned out, this kind of happenings were a nightmare to plan.

"And? When were you going to tell me that?" chided the taller of the two **[4]**, upset for having to hear about the thing from the rest of the school instead of her close friend.

"I really don't know why everyone is so up and about because of it. First of all, no one knows the exact details yet because we've only roughly started discussing the Halloween Night, let alone anything bigger, and second, it's not like everyone will be able to attend it." she said, matter-of-factly and while she was at it, scolded two first years, running around one of the lone statues.

"Well you're going to have to be a bit more specific than that to satisfy my curiosity. Ever since I spend more time on the pitch than in the castle, I get lucky if I manage to overhear what's for lunch let alone something juicier. Speaking of which, how's that gossiping paper Lavender and Parvati never shut up about coming along?"

Hermione gave her friend a look of despair before answering.

"I still can't believe McGonagall let that one happen. Something about embodying the school spirit and whatnot. I honestly thought she'd lost the plot when she approved of it."

Ginny threw her head back and laughed, attracting attention from the opposite sex.

"What did you say it was called again?"

"The Inner Eye," snorted Hermione and then continued in equally exasperated tones, "No surprise there, I guess. And while I could've dealt with the name, having Lavender as the main editor is just too much for me to handle."

Ginny had to stop, getting a stitch to her side from laughing too hard.

"You know, yesterday she had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to accept the honour of being the first one to be interviewed for the Significant Student of the Week section." ranted the brunette on.

"And?"

"I tried to strangle her but then Malfoy came by and she lost the only two active brain cells she's usually in possession of and stormed after him."

Ginny gave up trying to contain the laughter and just let it all go. The students they passed gave her strange looks but she couldn't see them anyway because rivers of tears streamed down her cheeks.

She finally calmed down when they already reached the study hall in the north wing **[5]**.

"Anyway, we were talking about the Winter Cotillion." continued the redhead, putting a flirty emphasis on the name.

"No, _you_ were talking about it. I refused to."

She dismissed Hermione's absent remark with a wave of her hand.

"Yes and I decided that was not an option, now spill!"

"Really Ginny, you are getting way too preoccupied with it. You're not supposed to react in the same manner those silly tarts with no self respect do."

They found a nice little cosy sofa with a small table in front of it and started putting down notes, ink bottles and quills.

"You should get off your high horse, Hermione. Can you really look me in the eyes and say you're not even a little bit impressed if not excited about it? It must be a huge thing if the Ministry has such a big say in it."

Hermione stopped pillaging the impressive book collection she managed to hump in that poor bag of hers and turned to face Ginny, whose eyebrows had rose so high they were nearly getting lost in her hairline.

"Well, yes. There's just so much work to be done when it comes to these things, besides, I don't know if you remember but the Yule Ball hadn't really gone all too well for me." she bitterly concluded, and suspiciously eyed McGonagall who was clearly heading towards them but got interrupted by Seamus' less than honourable intentions of trading a dung bomb for some homework.

"Oh please, Ron was a jealous moron then. I'm sure he'll be different this time around."

Hermione smiled a little.

"I doubt he'll dare to be his usual self with your mum and dad around."

"Why would they be around?" wondered Ginny, confused by Hermione's sudden mood improvement.

"It's a political and social affair all in one, intended for Quidditch players participating in the Cup and seventh years, who will be making a debut of sorts into our professional careers after we complete the education here. Hence the name cotillion. All our families and everyone who means anything in the wizarding world are invited."

Ginny looked completely gobsmacked.

"Honestly?"

Hermione nodded, to which her friend logically concluded: "Parents and families aside, it's quite brilliant, isn't it? I mean, shouldn't you be jumping up and down with excitement over the prospect of meeting people who can do wonders for your future?"

"Yes, but in order to get where I want, words from a few influential people will do little good if I won't be able to match my enthusiasm with splendid grades." Hermione added, sinking down into the sofa. "Judging by the amount of work associated with Head duties that's been piling on me lately, I'll be happy if I pass my N.E.W.T.s at all."

Ginny rolled her eyes. The day Hermione Granger will get only an A on her N.E.W.T.s will be the day someone will altogether abolish the whole schooling system.

None of which was, of course, likely to happen.

"You're feeling angst because you've only read Advanced Arithmancy what, three times instead of seven? I care about my grades as well but I won't start cutting off my sleep or practice just so Snape doesn't give me a T. After all, the final exams are the only ones that really matter and so far I've managed to deal with them remarkably well."

Hermione was about to stage an uprising of drastic proportions but Ginny got saved by professor McGonagall, who finally found her way towards them.

"Miss Granger, a word." she demanded, stepping aside so the girl could join her in a little more private discussion.

"These are the lists of library books that were due last June and have yet to be returned. Please make sure every common room has a copy." she said, giving Hermione a nice looking folder. "I also need you to make new arrangements for tutoring. A couple of fourth years have disastrous Potions grades and desperately need to be pushed ahead on the waiting list."

The Head Girl perked up, revoking.

"But professor, the Slytherin first years have D.A.D.A. lessons until November and I simply can't find enough tutors to help me out!"

"I know, I've sent Mr Malfoy down to 5B already. He's waiting for you."

"For me? Why?"

"You'll construct a new plan. If I manage to find an unoccupied prefect, I'll send them down as well."

"I was about to start working on the essay you gave us yesterday!" Hermione pouted, her head swimming will all of the chores that were bestowed upon her.

"That isn't due in two more weeks, Miss Granger. If Mr Potter will be able to write it several hours before he is due to give it in, then I have no doubts you will too."

The professor was gone before Hermione could object some more, so she apprehensively returned to the sofa and started putting her things back inside her bag.

"Where are you going now?" wailed Ginny, who was hoping she could coerce some help for her Potions essay from the brightest witch of her age.

"To meet Malfoy. We've got some tutoring to plan."

Ginny scrunched her face and to no avail, cried after Hermione's retreating form.

* * *

Weeks were flying by with hypersonic velocity and before any of them knew it, the end of October was only one week away.

Classes were long, professors demanding and the willpower was somewhere in the middle. Students were buried under a huge pile of work and if they weren't doing their chores simultaneously, they found themselves drowning in them.

Seventh years were the ones who complained the most but they understood that nothing other than enduring the pressure could really be done to help their case.

No wonder, that one evening when Hermione was returning to her dorm from another prefect meeting, seething from anger because Malfoy was yet again successful in undermining her authority, she forgot to watch her step and firmly collided with someone.

"I'm sorry. I don't really know what I was thinking, not watching my step like that." she apologized, a confused smile grazing her lips upon realising she bumped into Jake Harper, one of the more sociable and reasonably well behaved Slytherins on Harry's team.

He waved it away like it was nothing when it occurred to her, that he was too far away from the Slytherin dungeon for such a late hour.

"Uh, what are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"

She didn't want to sound offensive so she tried choosing her words with extreme caution. He raised his eyebrows in amusement to which she apologetically continued, "It's just that it is past curfew and you're not a Prefect anymore."

He shrugged, giving her a wicked smile.

"I was just leaving the Prefects' bathroom."

Upon taking a closer look, Hermione could see little droplets of water in his short, curly hair. He was also wearing loose sweatpants and a simple long sleeved jumper, a thoroughly muggle apparel, and she could smell an air of freshness around him.

"Sorry," she snapped out of it, "I'm being paranoid."

They started moving towards the Grand Staircase together.

"Well, I'm a Slytherin and it is, as you said, past curfew. Maybe you have a reason to be."

She giggled, convinced he was joking.

"So, what are _you_ doing here?"

"We had a meeting but I stayed for a while to cool down and do some extra work." she shrugged, the memory of an irksome argument making its way back into her consciousness.

"Cool down?"

"You know Malfoy and I don't usually see eye to eye so naturally, we've gotten into another fight."

Jake grinned, flashing his teeth in the process.

"I'm sure you probably won't find it funny but I was really looking forward to be a Prefect while he and you stand as Heads. Watching you two work each other up would definitely be the highlight of the day for me."

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly but had to smile at his honesty.

"I'm glad to hear something good comes out of that after all."

They resumed walking in rather comfortable silence and only started talking again, when they reached the ground floor.

"So, Harper, it was nice talking to you. I suggest you hurry though, I'm sure Filch is lurking about somewhere."

He seemed to be contemplating something before replying, "It's Jake."

"It goes both ways then," she offered but he shook his head.

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not? Does your inner Slytherin prevent you from being too familiar with someone like me?" she mused, feeling a bit down nevertheless.

"Anything but, actually. We know what your name is; we just prefer to say Granger. It gives it a bit of edge, I suppose. Like a nickname."

"You mean like the mudblood one?" she concluded, sounding rather poignant.

"No, that one's more or less exclusively reserved for Malfoy." he rationalised, visibly enjoying her discomfort. "You shouldn't take it as an insult though. It's really more of an endearment word for him."

Hermione neighed in the most unladylike manner she could come up with.

"I'm sure that's what it really is, deep down."

"One never knows."

They laughed at the silliness of the idea before turning away from each other and left, Hermione for the tower and Harper down the dungeons route.

* * *

**APPENDIX: **

**[1]** **–** **Hogwarts team** consists of 6 chasers (Zacharias Smith 7H, Ginny Weasley 6G, Jake Harper 6S, Tamsin Applebee 7H, Liam Chambers 5R, Blaise Zabini 7S), 4 beaters (Duncan Inglebee 7R, Jason Samuels 7R, Maxine O'Flaherty 5H, Jimmy Peaks 5G), 2 keepers (Miles Bletchley 7S and Ron Weasley 7G) and 2 seekers (Harry Potter 7G and Draco Malfoy 7S).

The number stands for the year they're in and the letter for the house, respectively.

**[2]-** **Classroom 5B** (also referred to as Card Trading Club room) is a small, disused classroom located on the fifth floor of Hogwarts Castle. As long as it was unused as a teaching facility, this classroom served as headquarters of the Wizard Card Collectors' Club. The room appears in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban video games and since its use after 1994 is virtually unknown, I thought it would make good residence for the prefects' meetings.

**[3]- The East Wing** is a large hall located on the sixth floor of Hogwarts Castle. There is a huge fireplace in the centre of the room and some portraits hung on the walls. There are portraits of Damara Dodderidge,Temeritus Shanks and Edessa Sakndenberg, among others in this room. The entrance is located on the Glanmore Peakes' Corridor. It first appeared in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban video game.

I found the place to be reasonably big enough to accommodate 140 witches and wizards. Each team will have their own small common room, two bathrooms and separated bedrooms. I am saying this now, because I will restrain myself from going into too many details in the actual story.

**[4]- Ginny and Hermione's heights** are never specifically mentioned in the books. It says that Ginny has a petite form yet it goes no further into details.

While reading the books, I always imagined for Ginny to be just slightly taller than Hermione. They're both of average height, mind you, but I think Ginny being taller suits the whole concept of a Quidditch playing beauty better.

**[5] - The North Wing** is located on the seventh floor of Hogwarts Castle, with scores of bookshelves lined along the walls and various tables and furniture placed around the room. It serves the Castle as a reading room and study hall. There are two entrances; one in the seventh floor corridor and the other in the Fat Lady's Corridor. The Wing also appears to be a popular hang-out spot, as students of all Houses go there during morning hours. It appeared in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban video game.


End file.
